


The Escapades of Foxy_Red_Lady and Mystery-Gent-No.36

by Punk_in_Docs



Series: Along Came Benedict: The Ben and Libby Saga... [15]
Category: Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom, British Actor RPF
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Dirty Little Secrets, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, F/M, Filthy, Fluff and Smut, Kinky, Kitchen Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Naked Under A Trench Coat, Oral Sex, Secret Relationship, Sex, Sexual Tension, Shall I Fetch The Riding Crop?, Shameless Smut, Sherlock Themed Sex, Slightly Kinky Sex, Smut, Smutlet, The Infamous Belstaff, secrecy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-02 04:21:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 32,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4045717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Punk_in_Docs/pseuds/Punk_in_Docs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This little Smutlet takes place between the stories in my series, 'Mama Used to say' and 'Here's Lookin' At You, Kid.' and because the title may not give much away, this is a series of chapters which will enlighten us on the times when our Dear Benedict and Darling Libby are desperately - and stupidly - trying in vain to keep their brand spanking new relationship a secret from all their family and friends. Which, now don't get me wrong, I adore these two, but they can't keep secrets for toffee! Especially when they are as mad about each other as they are. Please, click and read to find out more.... I promise you will not be disappointed...</p><p>- your loving and doting Author<br/>x</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Emails, Months and Doormen...

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

From: Foxy_Red_Lady

To: Mystery-Gent-No.36

Subject: Your Home…

 

So. I hear London town has the pleasure of being blessed once again with your presence. Lucky old place.

Currently sat in a very boring publishers marketing meeting, and now, rather impatient and itching to leave it.

What's say you? Up for my company tonight? Oh, and how was Japan?

Red

X

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

__________________________________________________________________________________

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

From: Mystery-Gent-No.36

To: Foxy_Red_Lady

Subject: I’m Home. London was, Indeed, Calling.

 

 

How uncanny, literally this second picked up my phone to email my shhhhexy ‘mystery woman.’ We are scarily on the same wavelength. I love it.

 Why hello, Miss Foxy Red Lady. I must say, I am rather enjoying this email relationship we’re having. Very, ‘You’ve Got Mail’, a lovely modern-esque electronic romance. And in regards to your earlier statement, yes. London does once again have a Cumberbatch among its crowds. Japan was, eccentric, to say the least. Just when I got settled with the idea that people _really_ love Sherlock in this country, Japan had to come and blow me away. And as for your other offer of company, I think you should know that my answer would undoubtedly be yes. I am always _up_ for your company.

And not to be too crude and all, I am always _up_ in your company aswell.

 

_Wink wink, nudge nudge._

Batch

x

 

 

 

 

__________________________________________________________________________________

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

From: Foxy_Red_Lady

To: Mystery-Gent-No.36

Subject: Loved the Clash Ref here Batch, well done… now, my offer of company…

 

 

Trust you to twist my words into something dirty, Batch. But, I must say having not seen you for three to four weeks, I am much finding myself in the same predicament. And here, I thought you may be far too jetlagged to _fully_ enjoy my companionship. Am I to expect something along the lines or ordering takeout and not leaving your bedroom for a day and a half?

Much like last time? Or am I to be surprised?

Red

x

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

__________________________________________________________________________________

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

From: Mystery-Gent-No.36

To: Foxy_Red_Lady

Subject: this day and a half. More like a fucking week, darling. (literally)

 

Oh my dearest, a day and a half wouldn’t even begin to compensate for the staggering total of 28 days, 672 hours, 40,320 minutes, and 2.419 million seconds away from you. I’d say that requires more than a mere ‘36’ hours spent in my bed showing you how much I have missed shagging those sexy curves deep into my matress.

 _Pah_ on your day and a half. I’ll need _so_ much more of you than that.

How dare you.

 

Batch

x

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

__________________________________________________________________________________

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

From: Foxy_Red_Lady

To: Mystery-Gent-No.36

Subject: A Week Ey? Such Optimism.

 

Good god, I love your Brain.

But, no, wait. Let me guess, you googled that didn’t you? Oh well.

I should be flattered I suppose. Not every guy googles the amount of time he’s been apart from the woman he loves. I’m touched. A week? Are you sure your serious? I do have a life you know and even though it would be nice to just spend an entire seven days ordering takeout, lolling about naked with you in your flat and spending hours upon hours, just shagging, and fucking, and oral sex, naked baths together, and…

What was my point again?

 

Red

?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

__________________________________________________________________________________

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

From: Mystery-Gent-No.36

To: Foxy_Red_Lady

Subject: you sexbomb.

 

Put it this way, my sweet darling, I am going to plough you and fuck the living hell right out of you from the instant you step that lovely body across my doorstep. So get that sexy ass out of that dull meeting, go home, grab a toothbrush and other such essentials (no clothes needed, well, maybe I mispoke actually, get that lacy flowery skimpy sexy red thing I’m so fond of) and so help me lord, if you do not have that sexy thang in a cab and straight on its way over to me within the next half hour, my cock really will explode.

Now hurry

Batch

X

P.S One XL Pizza with everything on it from Valentis in on the way here now.

Scooch it, Red. I’m serious.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

__________________________________________________________________________________

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

From: Foxy_Red_Lady

To: Mystery-Gent-No.36

Subject: Your imminently detonating cock..

 

Never fear, for the sake of the ‘explosion’ the meeting was over ten minutes ago, just after buisness talk and coffee now. Just nipping to the loo to change out of my work clothes, But seeing as you are so eager to have me (and I mean that statement _most indelicately_ ) I will start heading over, and just because I care so much about the safety of the lovely non dormant organ which resides behind your zipper, I had taken the liberty of having a small pre-prepared overnight bag with me right this very second. So my ETA to your place will be around about 25 minutes, just now leaving the building to grab a cab. (Hey, that rhymed)

see you in a very short few my dear…

 

Red

X

 

 

P.S. Don’t forget you and me have joint prior commitments this week. We have Bob and Cindys Champagne Party on Thursday Night. Many friends will be present, We also have Amelia's Birthday on Saturday and I have a Dinner on the Friday Night, which, may require you to be my handsome male plus one…

Interested?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

__________________________________________________________________________________

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

From: Mystery-Gent-No.36

To: Foxy_Red_Lady

Subject: That cab must be the slowest fucker in all of London.

 

I am timing you, just so you are aware. You have 18 minutes. And counting. And my god, who is your cab driver? Mr Magoo? And yes. I am interested, as long as your wear a perfectly evil cocktail dress that I get to rip when I tear you out of it later that night. That’s only fair.

16 minutes, 48 seconds

 

 

Come on…

 

 

Your ever impatient, Batch

X

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

__________________________________________________________________________________

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

From: Foxy_Red_Lady

To: Mystery-Gent-No.36

Subject: Ok, ok. I’m close, keep your wig on…

 

I’ve just passed Montrose Place, that is about ten minutes from yours ok? Simmer down. Ten simple minutes til I get to Montperier Place, Knightsbridge 167, Apartment 5A/Penthouse. Minutes, Batch. Can you handle that? And please, I had to do a shoddy job of mending my most beloved Dior dress after it had a close encounter last month with those rough hands of yours after that Authors gala Dinner.

 

Play Nice, why don’t you?

 

 

 

Red

x

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

__________________________________________________________________________________

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

From: Mystery-Gent-No.36

To: Foxy_Red_Lady

Subject: Nice? Bitch, Please….

 

Nice? You want me to be Nice? Darling. When you happen to look like some drop dead fucking curvy as hell, sinful as fuck, sex goddess in those dresses, you really expect me to extend decorum when, as it is I can barely have a foothold on my sexual libido all evening?

_Nice?_

Libby, When I get horny for you, and then we are alone together?

 My love, Nice doesn’t even register in my vocabulary by this point...

 

No apologies made, sincerely, I do not give a single fuck.

 

 

Not a one. And you can quote me on that til the day I die.

 

Batch

X

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

__________________________________________________________________________________

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

From: Foxy_Red_Lady

To: Mystery-Gent-No.36

Subject: Almost…

 

You do make me smile. you beautiful thing, you. Nearly at yours by the way. And I think I can safely say that you will not be dissapointed to hear I am but two streets away now. That’s mere minutes, you must be so glad. And as for the niceness, I suppose the girly part of me does secretly revel and enjoy the cave-man-esque style undressing I get when you get rough. I was moaning for nothing, should I just wear garments with Zippers all the time to make it easier for you?

Get back to me on that, it’s something I’m considering…

 

 

Red

X

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

__________________________________________________________________________________

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

From: Mystery-Gent-No.36

To: Foxy_Red_Lady

Subject: Zippers? Hmm, and interesting concept. Oh, and 13 minutes and 11 seconds.

 

That sexy ass had better be somewhere within a 200m radius of my building now. Just opened a bottle of Plantagenet, the 2006. But I can say with some safe assumption, that the wine will have plenty of hours to breathe on my kitchen counter as I get inside you and take you to heaven and back. And when the pizza arrives, it is sitting next to the open bottle of wine on my counter until that too goes cold. We can reheat it later. I wager you’ll need sustenance by about 12pm. I _may_ let your sexy ass out of bed for a strict ten min break. And my choice of music isn’t helping. Who knew ‘I Wanna Be Yours’ by the Arctic Monkeys could be such a sexy torturing song when I am itching for _my_ sexy curvy girlfriend to walk through the door any minute now.

 

 

_I wanna be your vacuum cleaner_

_Breathing in your dust_

_I wanna be your Ford Cortina_

_I won't ever rust I_

_f you like your coffee hot_

_Let me be your coffee pot_

_You call the shots babe_

_I just wanna be yours_

_Secrets I have held in my heart_

_Are harder to hide than_ _I thought_

_Maybe I just wanna be yours…_

 

 

 

Hurry up, sexy bum. I’m dying of horniness here.

 

Batch

x

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

From: Foxy_Red_Lady

To: Mystery-Gent-No.36

Subject: So close now….

 

You’ll be excited to hear I am pulling up to the curb as I type this.

Bet you can’t wait now, huh? Oh, I see Bob. He’s such a great doorman, I do like him… He’s always pleased to see me. Lovely man.

See you _very_ soon, Tiger…

 

Red

X

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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From: Mystery-Gent-No.36

To: Foxy_Red_Lady

Subject: SCREW BOB!

NO! NO BOB!

 

I HATE BOB!

 

I don’t care if Bob has suddenly turned into the reincarnated spirit of Mother Fucking Teresa. You ignore Bob, and you get that ass up those stairs or into that damn lift and get up here. Your _MY_ Girlfriend, my girlfriend should not give Bob the doorman the time of day, Especially not at six oclock at night when her own piece of stuff is dying up in 5A because he hasn’t had a damn good shag in four weeks! Come on, focus, Red. I was serious about my cock exploding you know, and you have 4 minutes 33 seconds left. Hustle, baby, hustle.

 

Batch

 

No. No kiss for you, I want you, HERE! NOW!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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From: Mystery-Gent-No.36

To: Foxy_Red_Lady

Subject: SCREW BOB! PART 2: ARE YOU IGNORING ME?

 

So help me god and almighty satan, hitler and stalin and in the name of Prince Phillips saggy Y-fronts you had better not be ignoring me and chatting to Bob the doorman.

 

Red…. I mean it. Don’t make me come down there…. It won’t be pleasant

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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From: Mystery-Gent-No.36

To: Foxy_Red_Lady

Subject: SCREW BOB! PART 3: BOB IS GOING TO DIE PAINFULLY WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON HIM!

 

You’re talking to Bob about long winded deeply unimportant things simply to really wind me up, aren’t you?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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From: Mystery-Gent-No.36

To: Foxy_Red_Lady

Subject: SCREW BOB! THE TRILOGY: YOU’RE IGNORING ME. HOW COULD YOU?

 

 

 

 

 

 

That’s it. First thing tomorrow. I am having Bob fired.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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	2. Trenchcoats and Lethal Little Dresses...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy, Is all I am going to say.... 
> 
> \- author
> 
> x

 

 

 

 

 

 

Benedict growled at his phone and threw it away on the sofa cushions with a small smile adorning his lips. Damn the woman. She knew exactly how to to rile him up just when he started to get unbearably horny for her.

He had spent most of the day doing lazy unimportant things. He had gone food shopping to restock his empty fridge, he had hoovered the flat, showered, slept a little bit to restore his energy and get his body back into London time. But constantly, like a little niggling reminder at the back of his head, he had a proverbial flagged note of ‘CALL LIBBY’ which had been driving him mad ever since the wheels of his plane had touched down onto the tarmac at Heathrow, at 3 in the morning the previous day.

His flat – and the man in it – was undoubtedly poised for sex. The mood lighting was on, candles were lit and dotted around the place, he had sexy background music thrumming away on his hi-fi system. He had given himself a good scrub down in the shower, dabbed cologne on his face, brushed his teeth, put on a freshly laundered shirt and his poshest jeans. He’d even shaved for god’s sake. And what was the woman he had done all this for doing? Why, she was downstairs having an animated little chat with his ruddy doorman for gods sake.

-bloody woman.

And he was sat up here, curled over his kitchen counter by half a glass of red wine like some kind of horny gargoyle. Tapping his bare foot against the floor against the slow tempo of the music as he waited, very impatiently.

Him and Libby were going very well – and would continue to do so as long as she didn’t monopolise his doorman for another second – they had been going steady and secret for about two months now. Of course, his work had intersected his time in England with her, but that was no matter. They had been on a steady diet of emailing, texting, phoning and a couple of Skype calls if he decided he really needed to see her wonderfully pretty face (or, depending on his mood, about six inches south of there) and of course it had been somewhat trying at times. With him jetting across the world, and her unable to leave London due to her work. But, they had made solemn vows to each other when they decided to get together at her cousins wedding, vows which neither of them had forgotten. That as long as they were coming home to each other at the end of the day,it didn’t matter that they were world's apart. They had been apart for half their lives, and it hadn’t ended well that way. So battling through things was their option, and plus, the sex was so good it was too good a thing to give up for the both of them.

But of course, this secrecy lark was turning out to be a very trying experience. Especially when the truly mind bending sex was thrown into the mix. Plus they could barely stand to keep their hands off each other as it was. Which made any public outing rather a difficult obstacle to their sworn dirty little secret of having each other. Odd little touches became very dangerous things all of a sudden. They had to be careful of kisses on cheeks, or lustful looks and flirty little touches.

But time alone together was bliss, when they could grab it. They did. With both hands. And he was so looking forward to his ‘nesting’ months in London now. Because he got to spend it with her.

And that was when he heard it. It was like heaven, gold, deep fried food, orgasms and handels hallelujah chorus rolled into one audible sound. Which was the unmistakable clack of heels making their way towards his front door.

His heart leapt as he heard the low rattle of a knock echo from the other side of his door. Aswell as her sparkling smoky voice that he had missed so very badly.

“Pizza Delivery…”

He swore he could _hear_ her smile. _Lords,_ he forgot how sexy even her voice was.

He had never vaulted across his open plan kitchen to the door as fast in his life. When he got to the door he nearly broke his arm he opened it inwards so quickly. But he didn’t care, because there was his sexiest dream stood the other side of it, managing remarkably to look like his real life curvy redhead.

Libby’s face broke into a smile when she was that sexy angular face appear. And she loved how those cerulean eyes were now giving her, and her outfit the once over. That fop of swirling brunette curls she had missed, aswell as those sinfully full lips which were the stuff of dreams. 

Because in one hand she held the steaming hot Valenti’s Pizza box which he had ordered, which she had decided to take the initiative by collecting it to surprise him with. And the other she had her rather small overnight bag.

But it was what she was wearing that piqued his interest.

She had on one of those Thin trench coats, the kind sexy female agents in 007 films wore, it reminded him of Ingrid Bergman in Casablanca, especially because she had teemed it with some sheer black tights and heels that made her slender and shapely legs go _all_ the way up, like they never ended.

She looked like Killer sex on legs. Her hair was messily thrown up and with a singular clip holding those red tresses in place, fringe tangling in her long black eyelashes, blue eyes prominent through her black smoky eye make up, and her smile was covered in sinfully dark lipstick.

If he was horny before, he was rampantly ragingly so now. Especially, now he had seen what she was dressed in.

His eyes scanned her up and down one last time before he held the door open.

“I don’t have any cash on me I’m afraid. I’ll have to tip you in some _other_ way..”

He rasped with a very sexy smile on his lips as she walked past him.

And just because she had to go and be totally unfair, she had to smell heavenly aswell. He was hit with a wall of her scent as she walked past him with that sexy red smile. That aroma of lavender and John Paul Gautier perfume he had greatly realised he missed on her. He had a picture of her that he took travelling with him, it was a small picture, but it was a shot of her at some birthday party or another, just smiling at whoever was taking the picture, hair as red as ever, smile unfairly pretty, eyes powder blue and shining, and every night, whatever country he was in, whatever hotel room, he would look at it resting on his bedside table before he went to sleep, and he would miss her. But when he saw her again, nothing compared to the way she smiled, smelled, or laughed.

_Nothing._

“I’ll take a kiss if your offering.”

She smiled saucily, crossing to his kitchen counter and placing the pizza down on the granite top.

“One extra large pepperoni, yes?” She japed, smiling lustily at him.

“I’ll take a side order if I may?” He smiled, running along with her joke.

“Which would be?” She flirted.

“One abominably sexy, redheaded, pizza delivery girl for the week, please.” He gruffed.

He followed her after her, looking like a lovesick, hungry and horny fool. And when he got to her he held her face In his large warm palms and kissed her like he never would again. She kissed him back just as hungrily as he had done to her.

“Oh, fucking hell, I’ve missed you.”

He whispered when he pulled away, voice like sin, her having wrapped her arms around him, his hands placed so one was on the side of her lovely throat, and the other at the back of her waist. One of his thumbs stroking down her pale throat. He had shoved her hips backwards forcefully into the counter to trap her into the kiss.

And now, Ben found his choice of background music, _really_ wasn’t helping. A low and slow song, by seal. ‘It’s a man’s world.’

“Ditto.”

She smiled before his lips were on her again, stealing away all her air and making her weak in the knees. Before long, and before they could throw down and consummate the month long break right there on the kitchen floor, Ben pulled back and just smiled down at her, pretty sure he now had half of her lipstick on his lips instead of her own.

“By the way, did I forget to mention I’m liking very much this outfit of yours. Very sexy bond girl…” He smiled wolfishly. Eyes flickering down the trenchoat.

“Can’t wait to see what’s under it..” He started, beginning to inch the neckline down in an attempt to see.

She halted his hand by pressing it to her chest with her own.

He raised a brow at her move.

“Before you see what is under this, you should know I agonised over many choices to wear for you tonight. Care to hear them?” She asked with a temptresses smile.

He gave a wry twitch of a smile. But she gave a small startled yelp as he heaved her into his arms, and sat her atop the counter right in front of him, both legs dangling down either side of his body. His hands at her hips as her arms went backwards to brace herself as she sat up facing him. The granite cold on her barely clad, sheer thighs.

“Tell me.” He lusted, as his hand went to the back of her hair, tugging out the large clip and tossing it over his shoulder so it landed on the floor with a clatter behind him. Her hair now a jumbled mass of curls which he dragged his hand through, able to once again smell the perfectly perfect peach shampoo she used. Yep. He had missed the living hell out of that too.

“Well, the first, was one that has proven very popular when I had worn it before. It’s the short black Vivienne Westwood one, the cocotte cocktail dress. Draped neck, good cleavage view, and its very fitted on my ass.” She explained.

Ben made a slow sound of recognition at the back of his throat.

“Ah, I remember, the one. As I recall, elegant, but _very_ drop dead sexy.”

He recollected, leaning in to brace his upper half over her, to snuffle into her neck and place small hot kisses down her throat after he had spoken. That was her kryptonite, if he ever needed to shut her up, to sex her up, or even get her to do something, then kissing down her neck was the way to go about it.

“The second…” She breathed out on a sigh, as he was causing her brainwaves to go haywire.

“…Is an equally as Sexy little number. It’s a fitted red dress, very clingy, and again, much like the one before, a good cleavage view, but this one has a bit more leeway when it comes to showing off my legs.”

“Those _killer_ legs…”

He added, smirking against her pale scented neck. He really needed to fuck her soon, he decided.

“And the third is a most lethal option…” She assured him, swerving her eyes to his as he broke away from her throat to place a shallow kiss onto her lips.

“Lethal?” He questioned in a searching tone.

“Mhh-hmmm.” She purred.

“Care to enlighten me on that?” He asked with a sin worthy smile.

“Well, I have to say, it goes very well with some lace topped hold ups, and these sexy slingbacks.” She smiled, pointing her toes to show him the peep toe black Laboutins with firetruck red soles.

“And? This mystery dress? What does it look like?”

“I guess you could say it looks as good as If I were _wearing nothing_ at all.” She smiled with a smile that was all pure vixen.

Ben’s brows came together for a second, before his eyes widened and his eyebrows nearly touched his hairline.

He blinked a fair few times. Before suddenly his grip on her hips became very tight indeed.

“You mean to tell me.”

He swallowed, his voice no more than a pained husky rasp.

“…That right this very second, underneath that trench coat. You are wearing nothing but stockings and heels?”

He clarified. Looking very horny and turned on.

_She nodded._

If he was rampant before, and raging thereafter. He would have to invent or find a whole new word for what he was now.

_Sweet jesus christ this woman was going to kill him before long._

Libby watched with glee as the drop dead man in front of her seemed to be having trouble comprehending her.

That was before his hand shot off to the side and grabbed a small rectangular object. Eyes not breaking with hers. He looked very turned on now, if his lust blown pupils were anything to go by.

It was the remote for the blinds, the huge electronic things that covered the floor the ceiling windows that ran along the entire glass wall of his kitchen and across the small balcony which overlooked Hyde Park just to the left of them out of the window. Of which down on the road below, the heavily busy London night was beginning to rush them by.

He fiddled with the buttons for a second, Libby looking off to see that he was drawing down all five of the blinds, so they lowered just enough that no one could see in, just at hip height above the floor.

Her eyes met his again, and she was just willing to bet he would now make good on his promise to her from the email earlier. He was going to fuck her _very_ thoroughly through his mattress for this little move.

His hands went straight to her ankles, and he snapped off the slingbacks from her heels, throwing them off from her feet, each one over his shoulder, so one shoe ricocheted off the fridge with a loud _clang,_ and the other _whacked_ rather furiously into a cupboard and then clattered to the pinewood floor.

Next to go were the stockings, she nearly lost it, biting her lip as those large calloused hands slid all the way up her smooth pale thighs hooking his fingers in the tops of the hold up sheer things and dragged them slowly down and off her legs, before those too were dropped right by the side of his feet on the floor, forgotten.

His eyes are burning at her, and his smile tipped lustily up at the sides in an unspoken look of

‘you know what's coming next, love’

His hands reached for the first button of the trench coat, slowly pushing it through the hole, and letting the fabric slide apart, and then before she knows it, slowly, damn near unfairly, he reaches for the second, and before she can comprehend it, he had undone all of the buttons that held the trench coat in place over her naked body, including the buckled belt that was synched tight across her waist. His hands then grab the two sides of the coat and pull them sharply apart, so she is left in nothing but her pale sexy butter smooth skin as he draws the sleeves down and off her arms so she if left perfectly and utterly naked atop his kitchen counter, on a crumpled black coat. Very aware that a busy street was rushing by them both just to her left.

Her breath suddenly came in stops and starts, and her spine was tingling and thrashing with the hot look he was shooting her, eyes roving all over her naked body. Taking in the sight of her curves that he had missed. Sure, they were _her_ curves, but they were all _his. They belonged to him and him alone…_

And what he was about to do to them would leave her twitching…

His hands skimmed down from her thighs to her bare kneecaps so slowly, eventually to let his hands grip to her knees and push them softly apart, sliding her thighs wide apart, to better take in the sight of that pretty little wet thing that was starting to glisten at the apex of her thighs. His eyes drop to once again take in the sight of the pretty little thing that he had gone for a whole month without being able to fuck.

But something tells her that he’s not going to be fulfilling that promise just _quite_ yet.

“Is it frowned upon for delivery girls to be eaten out by their clients?”

He asks in a voice that is all rasp and sex.

She makes no answer except for her lips to gape and a smile to overtake her lips

Because he wants a taste of her exquisite pussy far more than he needs his next breath.

"God. I need to taste that sweet thing. Let me taste it." He rasped. 

His eyes don’t break contact with her as he sinks to his knees and cups her ass pulling her right to the edge of the counter so she is just on the verge of falling off, toes curling as he grips his hands across her thighs and licks a slow, sopping wet stripe across her throbbing pussy. Slurping across her clit in a way that makes her yelp with pleasure.

In one word for both of them of what this was?

_Delicious_.

She can vaguely hear him moan a veneration into the inside of her thigh

“Oh, my darling.”

He gasps in a voice that could rival drilling for oil. Before his tongue is right back sweeping across her weeping clit.

Her body practically throws itself forwards in an arch, keening into him. Curling up into the sensation that his talented tongue was causing on her, A slow very all consumed moan of lust broke away from her lips and breached the air in his kitchen, louder than the sexy sway of the background music he still had playing. The sound of her moaning was better than music to his ears..

He dared to flick his eyes upwards to see that her head was thrown right back and her eyes were closed as he mouth gaped in a pretty moan. Gods, he loved the sight of her like this, moaning and sighing his name in little gasps of adoration, head thrown far back, and the sight of those wonderful breasts with her rosy red nipples taut with desire, of which he was managing to pull from her when he did this.

Libby didn’t know what to do with herself, she had never beforehad a man who was more skilled at going down on her as Benedict was. He knew exactly where to go to rally reduce her to the most quivering mess of a woman. His lips and tongue were always able to work sinful magic on her clit, twirling and dipping in patterns that made her see stars behind her eyelids. And managed to artistically make her loose all the air she kept in her lungs.

She was damn sure her toes couldn’t curl any further into her own feet by now, because all she could hear was the shrewd wet sounds which is being made as he laps across her lovely pink clit. She was sure that nothing on earth should everbe allowed to feel this good. Because it’s all she could do not to devote her entire life to servitude for this mans sexual prowess. Because the scarily shocking thing was, she’d do it in a heartbeat.

Her hands fist into his brunette tresses as he swirls his tongue in a pattern that proves to be too delightful as she can feel herself starting to come undone. Thighs shivering either side of his angular jaw that it pressed into the apex of her legs. His jaw was a shape that constituted a very good throne when he was pressed into her like this.

“Oh, Ben…” She moans, voice an octave or two above a passionate whisper. Her chest straining under heavy laboured breaths as she begins to feel light headed and fluttery. She felt his hands claw deeper into her ass, tugging her closer onto his tongue as he slid it all the way inside her, rubbing against a spot that only he knew how to find, and when he did, he could make her crumple like paper in his hands.

His tongue could be perfectly wicked sometimes, sometimes flat, sometimes sharp, peeking just in, or engulfing her lips completely. It’s a sinful mix, because he never gives any hint of what's coming next, short little bursts of pleasure, or long slow drawn out patterns which pull long graceful moans from her lips like a tender invocation. But all she knows is that what she feels next, is the startings of a truly mind bending orgasm that will pick her apart until she unravels into a mushy puddle of a woman, and his tongue was all to blame.

He seemed to notice that she wasn’t far from the finishing line now, as her thick thighs were starting to clamp tighter about his face, which was something that always seemed to happen just before she came. And he loves her at this stage, because now, every move he makes will truly send her wild, and if nothing else, that thought resonates straight to his cock and makes him harder than rock for her. He had been fighting a storming semi ever since he had got her first email, and now his zipper was an ill substitute for keeping him contained, in all his _hard_ glory as it were.

He eats her now, hungrily, like he is starving for her, and, he supposes he was. He couldn’t even spare the two minutes she took out of her way over here to talk to his doorman. But now, he really can’t wait to make her cum and cum and cum until she could cum no longer, quivering her release onto his lips like she usually does when he takes her like this. He can feel her entire body starting to quiver, her hands clutch onto his hair tighter, tugging harder, her thighs are rock hard now with all the muscles that are fighting to clench and clamp down harder, and still he goes faster, twirling and dipping his tongue until every other moan is a scream that gets louder and louder. Her hips are thrusting shallow and fast against his jaw now, and he dares to look up at her again to see her lip was going to bleed if she bit it any harder, because one more smooth lick across her clit is all it takes for her hold on her orgasm to shatter.

Her hands tug so hard on his hair he’s not too unsure if she didn’t force any to come away from his scalp, but as all he can then taste is the sweet taste of her invading his lips as she cums violently. He doesn’t care if she did pull his hair out. He smirks against her lips, feeling her shake and come back down from heaven.

Libby’s head was thrashing, and her mouth felt as dry as anything as she licked her lips to return some moisture that he had made her moan away. She fluttered open her eyes once more to see the sexy god of a man still knelt between her thighs, and she sees him smirk, but not before his tongue presses flat to her once more as he leaves her with one huge flat lick across her core that leaves her pounding. A small gasp escaping her lips. That was before he stood and wrapped his arms around her warm shivering, still naked, body.

Coming to terms with the fact her head was still swimming, and the pounding sound in her brain wasn’t deceasing...

“Ok, is that pounding coming from my head or your door…” She asks through a gasping moan.

He frowns. Standing up and leaning into her, the both of them now listening intently across his flat. Where, sure enough, someone was knocking rapidly on his door. The person on the other side of it growing more agitated as the knocks became louder and louder.

That was when the both of them couldn’t mistake the familiar voice calling through the wood.

“Ben? mate? Are you in? I saw the blinds were up from the street?”

And that voice belonged to their mutual friend, Tom. Tom Hiddleston.

 

Ben and Libby’s eyes respectively shot wide.

 

“Oh fuck.”

Was Libby’s quietly cursed exclamation as she summoned her strength and dropped to the floor like a stone, landing on the balls of her feet, blindly turning and grabbing the crumpled – slightly damp - pile that was her coat, which she pulled over her naked frame, and struggled to redo all the buttons on it.

“Mouth.” She mouthed to Ben, telling him how half her orgasm and various other liquids were gleaming on his lips and all across his mouth.

He made no move to counteract this concern of hers, except to give her a smoulder through his hot blue eyes, and slowly lick his lips as he smirked.

She was ignoring the fact that the little move of his made her stomach pang with arousal.

“Do you want Tom to know we’re shagging?” She hissed.

Ben counteracted her point with a tilt of a nod, before he scattered to the floor, gathering the thin wispy things that were her stockings, Libby shuffling her hair out of her face as she blindly fumbled with doing up buttons in a blind yet trying to be calm and not let Tom know they were here to have a shag kind of panic. Ben looked at the things in his hands for a second, before he decided her getting them on would take way too long, cursing a

“Shit, shit, shit.”

With a somewhat amused smile as he found the pockets in her coat, and shoved the stockings deep down inside them. Buttoning them up, before spinning round to gather her shoes, lobbing them both at her, which she managed to catch, the other landed with a loud thud against her calf.

“Ow, thankyou..”

She snapped lowly. Hopping on one foot as she tried to shimmy her other slingback onto her heel.

He ran blindly across the room, in a manner of every which way flailed limbs, to the sound system in the corner of his lounge, cutting the romantic mood music that would undoubtedly give away the fact that they were ‘getting it on’ so to speak. Tom knew Ben well, he would know what music the man would consider for ‘mood making’

“Ben? I’m seriously growing old out here now?”

Tom knocked, again, voice muffled through the door, sounding exasperated now.

Libby took a wild stab at trying not to make it look like they were on a impromptu date, gulping down half a glass of wine and hiding the stained glass in his cupboard. Placing a cork in the bottle and leaving it looking like only one person had taken some wine.

Libby managed to dive to the floor to retrieve her hairclip, shoving that too in her pocket with the stockings, just before Ben got to the other side of the door, looking across to her with the unspoken expression on his face of ‘You ready?’

Libby nodded, tying the sash of her coat tight across her waist. Ben nodded back before he swung the door open and tried his best to act nochalant. – or alternatively, as nochalant as he could manage with a previous hard on slash now inactive semi straining against the zipper of his jeans, the taste of Libby’s arousal smeared across his lips and still having the feel of her fingers tangled into his hair tugging tight on his tresses as she made her cum onto his lips.

But sure, nochalant could be _great_ fun. He supposed sarcastically to himself.

“Hey Tom, whats up, Tom.”

Ben squawked funnily with a strange smile just at the same time Libby breathed out a

“Hey you, hey Tom.”

On wobbly (sex strained) vocal chords.

Tom stared back at the both of them, a frown pulling down his brows. But then Ben and Libby saw he was clutching a white bloodstained hankerchief to his nose, so quite literally all they could see of him was his furrowed brows and a confused blue eyed gaze.

He was also dressed in a tux, but the collar of his white shirt had spatters of blood down it. Libby moved closer across from Ben’s kitchen.

“What the Hell’d you do? Get into a fight or something?”

Libby asked confusedly as she got to the door behind Ben, having clacked to the door in her heels, Ben widened it to let his friend in.

Tom stepped across the threshold, speaking as his voice was muffled through the hankie.

“I tried both your phones, but no response. Really helpful of you by the way..” He grumped. Not really meaning it. 

Ben crossed to the sofa as Libby helped Tom in, and settled him onto a high barstool, her lanky friend sunk down onto it and carried on talking.

“.. and I thought I’d better try here, I knew Ben would be home from Japan by now. But I wasn’t sure where you’d be.. ow.” Tom moaned as Libby made him lower the hankerchief, and she lightly grazed his nose with her fingers, testing to see if it was broken.

“I’m quite glad you are here though, Ben’s a shite nurse compared to you, Libs.”

Tom moaned with a smile, lowering his head back once more, as more blood started to leak from his nose.

Ben, who had been shuffling his sofa cushions about checking for his phone eventually found it, Indeed finding that he had about five missed calls from Tom, then straightened and gave Tom his best upset frown.

“Oi.”

He called, in an upset tone across his flat, seeing Libby turn and look at him with a smile and Tom looking not at all sheepish.

“Its true.”

Came the muffled complain from underneath the hankie once more.

“Best not upset the man any more, Ben, where’s your first aid kit?” Libby asked with a kind smile that Ben thought instantly suited her nurse persona.

“Not until I get an apology Hiddleston. I am a damn fine nurse.” Ben insisted. Pointing a matron like finger at him.

Libby gave him a stern look.

“Remember the time in Uni? When I cut my finger open making a sandwich, you suggested I put gaffa tape around the wound, then ate half of the aforesaid sandwich I couldn’t eat.” Tom reminded him.

Libby sighed. “First Aid kit, Ben.” She urged.

Ben made a face. Before he crossed to the sink and pulled open the cupboard, rummaging around until he was able to produce a small white tin, handing it to Libby, of which she flipped open the lid and looked around inside, seeing some gauze that she could use.

“I don’t think it’s broken Tom. Just bruised. If it was broken, you’d be in agony, I’ll just try and stop the bleeding.”

She insisted. Crouching to look up at his blood crusted nose. He looked at her with a small smile, looking like a scruffed up scamp.

“You still didn’t answer my earlier question of how you got a bust up nose..” Libby reminded the lanky man.

Tom looked almost like he didn’t want to tell her how it happened.

“I walked into a glass door.” He uttered quietly. Fiddling with the handkerchief in his lap out of embarrassment. 

Ben smiled next to her, leaning against the counter, looking at Tom with a mix of pity and amusement.

“A door, Tom?” He asked. “You could’ve altleast lied and told us you had a bust up in a dark alley with five huge burly guys, and you won.”

“Just because that’s what you’d do.” Libby supposed, sighing, as she tried not to hurt Toms nose, jiggling balled gauzes up his nose to soak up the blood.

“A little embellishment never hurt anyone.” Ben smiled.

Libby shook her head.

“What are you doing here anyways? Tom suddenly asked to Libby.

He froze, wondering if she was about to be caught out.

“I remember you saying a couple of days ago you had plans when I asked you if you wanted a movie night tonight?” Tom supposed accusingly.

Libby’s mouth gaped.

“..and your all dressed up to go out.”

He continued.

“I. I have a date…” Libby got out finally.

Ben stiffened.

She flickered her eyes across to Benedict whose face was impassive and obstinate.

“Oh, Libs, that’s great. Who with?” Tom asked with interest, and a smile.

“A guy I met online.” She filled in quickly.

“Are you sure that’s safe? He could be a 14 year old, or a 46 year old, or an axe murderer.” Tom listed off.

Libby bit her lip, he was now forcing her down a route she didn’t want have to take, but he left her little choice. It was a good cover after all.

“I met him on a dating website.” She hushed through partially gritted teeth.

Ben tilted his head in a nod. You had to give it to her, she was thinking on her feet.

“…We’re going out for dinner tonight. I’ll finally get to see what my blind date looks like.” She smiled.

“Okay?” She asked.

“Okay.” Tom finished.

“Glad you’re finally getting out there, you old horndog. You look great by the way. Killer legs.”

Tom added quickly. Eyes taking in the vastly curvy things on his friend which didn't seem to end. 

“What dress do you have on under the coat to impress him with?”

Tom asked in a purely friendly manner.

Libby laughed, flushing a bit pink. This was not a path she was heading down for a second time this evening.

Ben spluttered his laughing fit to accelerate into a coughing one.

Also trying not to go a bit red in the face like she had.

“Thank you Hiddles. That should stop the bleeding.”

She finished as she moved to the sink to wash his blood off her hands. Drying them on a towel that Ben handed her thereafter.

“Oh. What’s his name?” Tom asked in an afterthought.

Libbys brain fought with empty thought for a second or two, before finally it stuttered and stopped and then came out with a name.

“Mystery-Gent-No.36.” She said quickly.

Tom nodded, looking like he almost didn’t believe her. It was _quite_ unlike her to use a dating website to get a date from someone. He seemed to remember her havign a good long rant to him about how unsafe that was, or how sad people were who used dating websites were. But, he supposed, she could have always turned over a new leaf…

“Or, Hugh, as I know him.” She added.

“Hugh?” Ben asked, lifting an amused brow.

“Hey, Can’t make this stuff up.” Libby smiled with glee.

_And pure lies_ , she thought.

She looked across to Ben to see him grinning inanely.

Tom raised his brows.

“Well. I’d best be off then. Leave you to your date. And Ben to your…”

Tom began, Seeing the large Valentis pizza box and the singular glass of wine out. He could just envision his friend lounged on his sofa, listening to music, eating pizza and drinking wine by himself. A shame really. Ben ought to be out there, dating women and having the time of his life, like Libby was doing. Taking life by the horns, going out on a blind date with Mystery-Gent-No.36.

“…Wine and Pizza. Have a good night mate.”

He raised those brows again. But with a kind smile.

He finished, standing as he crossed to the door. Opening it, but pausing to talk to his friend before he walked out.

“You know, she’s being brave, taking life my the balls as it were, maybe you should think about finding someone on a dating website to take out, Ben?” Tom suggested.

Libby beamed. Ben gave his friend a cool smile.

“I’ll consider it, love, how’s that?” Ben smiled.

“All I need to hear, _dearest_.”

Tom grinned, with a wink. Before he sauntered out of the door, closing it behind him in his wake.

Libby smiled as the sound of the shutting door meant that he and she were alone together once more.

Ben picked up another little remote and pressed a button. Libby smiled as she heard ‘love to love you baby’ erupt across his wireless music system once again. back on was the ‘love-making’ music, and suddenly she remembered the week and a half she had promised him in the email from earlier.

Libby felt Ben come up behind her, bracing her front into the counter in front of her, sly hands coming about her waist to slowly unpluck the synched buckled belt that held tight across her waist.

She also felt those infamous lips start to pluck slow kisses down her neck and she could feel the arousal swell up inside of her once more.

“Reckon we’ll have any more disturbances this evening?”

He asks her in a rumbled sexy hush into her ear.

But it was thrice as so as his hands came to both sides of the trench coat and sharply tug both sides until she felt both sides give way as it ripped. Moaning softly as she felt buttons drop to her heeled feet, and what remains of the damaged coat is thrown to their feet, as once more that evening he rips the coat away to reveal her naked body, and his hard planes of muscles are pressed into her back, as well as the beginnings of his swelling erection pinning her where she stood, making her very horny and turned on again.

Suddenly nothing but that ripped sound is ringing in her ears and his lips swerve to her ear to speak once more. And then all she can hear is his voice as he rasps something to her in a hot promise.

 

“… And now, my dear. I am going to _fuck_ the living hell right out of you.”

 

 

 


	3. Sleepy Sex Sheets and Close Shaving...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In case I did not mention this before, this lovely dirty little chapter is dedicated to the even lovelier ❤️Barbara McNair.❤️ Who as I understand, goes under the knife today and requested some, and I quote 'downright dirtiness' so to my darling Barbara. I wish you a speedy recovery, and whilst you recover. You'll be very pleased to know that my next chapter to this story is also being dedicated to you... Something to help aid along the recovery if you like. ;) enjoy x x x x x

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Libby’s head was thrown back to the pillows, cascading her short red hair to fan about beneath her as a largely satisfied moan, that sounded sweeter to Ben than the song of any chirping bird, crossed her lips in a long and slow sound of sexual bliss. Her eyes were creased tight and her lips struggled to stay closed as she let forth a moan that could rattle the ceiling tiles three streets away. But, mind, as he was the man currently causing her state by being atop her and pounding her relentlessly through an absolutely scorching orgasm, he didn’t give two flying figs about how loud she was being. One, because it spurred him on, and two, he was reaching his completion aswell.

Surely there was no better sight for him than this? His sexy red head, writhing in pleasure, glistening and rising about, naked, on his snowy white bedsheets. God was very good to him indeed, he decided in that moment, as his own orgasm gripped and skyrocketed through him, and he was just as sure his shouts, moans and gasps of pleasure had been just as equally loud as her own as he emptied inside her with a loud gasp and a sexy winning smirk, mind clouded with euphoria and pleasure. He hoped right then, that the sex never stopped being this great. Of course, he had enjoyed sex with the women who came before her. But Libby, well. Sex with her was just. _electric._ Every touch from her made him instantly stand to attention downstairs – so to speak – she was absolute dynamite in the sack. And he found that unlike _every_ woman who came before her, she managed to unknowingly invade and  command every sexual fanatasy he has ever had. Forget most men’s dreams of having a night of wild passion with five victorias secret models, Ben would give up a thousand nights with what other guys would deem the world’s sexiest women, all for just an hour alone in bed with Libby.

He watched as the woman in question below him seemed to stir back down to earth. And he couldn’t help what he did next. Not pulling away from being inside her, he braced down over her glistening sweat soaked, sex destroyed body and nudged her lips into a long smooch with his own. She moaned, that wonderful breathy sound she always made that he’d never tire of hearing, and looped her deadweight arms about his sweaty back. – of which she was ashamed to say, bore the marks of how _truly_ great he was in bed. Angry red nail marks raked all down his pale skin - She could see the half cresent little scars where her nails had bitten into his flesh.

When he pulled away from kissing her, he took delight again in his eyes being allowed to roam freely all across her skin without authorisation or question. She truly was a goddess of pure beauty like this. That creamy skin he adored seeing, marred with nothing other than beautiful softness and the odd dark mole that he wanted to spend hours playing an invisible game of connect the dots all across her beautiful body. Over _her_ body that he knew better than the back of _his_ own hand. Like the lines on a well travelled map, He knew where _all_ the little freckles and moles which spackled her back, arms, shoulders, and legs were, hidden in plain sight. He liked that only he knew where they all lay under her clothes when she was dressed. She really was like his perfect little map. And the best part was, he adored them all. He was very taken with the one just to the right side of her neck, because it was a raised little bump of skin that he always managed to find with his lips. But the spot he really loved was the small speckle of a mole to to the left of  her lips. He loved to kiss it and make her grin stupidly when he did. He also loved how she had a few dotted at the backs of her knees. He delighted in tucking his hand to the ticklish spot where they could be found. 

His eyes swept up from where they were still joined below the abdomen, up past the gentle swell of her rounded tummy which he claimed was barely existant, but which she assured him she despised. Further still his eyes wandered across the sway of her curvy hourglass shape that he found so captivating, her hips were deliciously wide and he adored how they went from as such, to tuck inwards into her petite and fragile little waist. He truly felt his hands could wander over that enchanting slender curve no more than a million times, and still he would never tire of stroking from her hip to her trim middle, the path that his hand itched to take right now.

Before he got too fascinated in being enthralled with that certain trait of her anatomy, his eyes met with a particular part of her that he would never, and _had_ never in all his life, not enjoyed the sight of. And that was the full heavy roundness of the absolutely hypnotizing pair of breasts she had on her. Or as she oft referred to them, her bloody great untameable funbags. And that thought makes him smile. Because he can just imagine her saying that in the way that only Libby could. Rolling those baby blues back into her head like silken cerulean marbles, tipping her chin south to her chest and glaring at the wonderful things he was utterly enamoured with, putting her hands on each one and shuffling them about to see if it made the slightest difference, attempting to magically shrink them somehow . But all that little move did was make Ben smile and love her all the more for it. He remembers one time horridly hearing how she was seriously considering having them made smaller, to ease her permanent backache as it were. All he can remembers doing was rightfully pointing out that most women with breasts of her size had cheated and had some assistance by lining them with silicone enhancements. Thankfully, she had listened to him, or more likely, it being Libby, simply forgotten, and he was over the moon that she had. Besides, she always seemed to garner some discount in bars or restaurants from males who were enraptured by her showing off a sliver of cleavage like it was for their benefit... When it was really just their pleasurable advantage (And her cheeky method of discount)

The next piece of her to come under scrutiny from his eyes, was those pale curved shoulders which splay inwards to form her slender swan like neck. He was a sane man, he knew he shouldn’t be as beguiled with Libby’s neck as he was. It was a neck. A handy thing, necks, designed to ensure that mankind could move their head about 180 degrees and keep their face in the right position on top of their shoulders. That should be about it. But it _wasn’t. Not for him. Not for Libby’s neck._ Because that part of her was possibly his _greatest_ achilles heel. If he had ever to be so taken with a small stretch of someones body, then her neck stole the biscuit. Because it was just _so nice._

It was pale, and lengthy and just so bloody unreservedly _sexy,_ and he had yet to find a time when it didn’t smell wonderfully like her scent of lavenders and her staple perfume. The perfectly muscled column of her throat he found, was one he could just stare at, for hours on end. Days even. Weeks. _Years. The rest of his mortal life on planet earth._

He loves to nuzzle into it. It was the first thing he sought to do when he was still half asleep in the morning, granted he was in the same bed with her, was just to shuffle his lips across the pretty crook below her chin and hibernate there until she woke up. He loved to kiss it too, mostly when he had a few days stubble, and he just _knew_ the harsh scrape of bristly hair from his chin would cause her to moan and bite those lips with a smile. He loved to kiss it when it was cold out, and her neck served as the perfect kissing spot for warming up his cold nose, attending his lusty needs as the finest most prettiest human radiator. But he truly liked it best when he could just sink his teeth in and mark it all over with dark bites that showed off how it was all _his._ Especially when they were going at it in bed and he was mere seconds away from cumming. Nothing was better to muffle his moans than to sink his teeth down into that charming neck of hers and listen as she very nearly perished with pleasure.

But then again, he supposes he is so utterly riveted with damn near _every_ part of Libby. From the top of her beautifully auburn red head, to the very tips of her cute little toes. He loved her skin, and her smile, how her hair was always scented, how much he craved hearing her laughter like it was gods own medicienne for him. He loved her arms, and adored her shoulders. He worships the heavenly place between her legs, and the ever lengthy shapely things that _are_ her legs. He would merrily elope with her breasts and would happily write sonnets to her bottom. (ode to a rear)

And he swore that if man were insane enough to allow for someone to take up matrimonial vows to forever be bound to an individual part of a woman, then Benedict wouldn’t know what part of her to pick first…

His eyes finish their tour of her body just as he sees those baby blues flutter open and stare up at him from his pillows below. And he is perfectly able to search all over the cherry on top of the proverbial cake, as it were. He could search through all 3.4 billion women in the world, and still not manage to find a single one whose facial details pleased him more than hers did. Her lips were breath taking heart shaped, full cherry pink things that excited him to no avail. He adored kissing them, making them stretch out in a smile, (enjoyed it thoroughly when they were stretched over his cock, he might add) and he liked studying them when he thought she wasn’t looking. He couldn’t name his favourite time to kiss them, because every time soon became his favourite. It was a difficult thing to distinguish from. And then up past her lovely cute little nose that wrinkled when she laughed, add that too to the list of things he was captured in love by. Then there were her eyes. The windows to the soul, and if that were the case, as Shakespeare once wrote, then she had the prettiest soul In all the land. Her eyes, he had noticed, were quite alike that of his own, almost a matching set. Wide almond shaped, but he was willing to bet hers were bluer and far more striking. His had a habit of changing colour every now and again. hers, he noted with love, remained lovely and all the same. He liked that. Very much.

“What are you staring at Batch?”

Came the more than satisfied purr of a moan from his curvy bed companion. He smiled as she shuffled about on his sheets, bringing a pillow to rest behind her head. He can’t quite recall how some of them ended up on the floor. But then his mind flashes back to him the image of how he had grabbed furiously at the thing and tore it out from under her as he threw her to the matress and thrust into her all the way to the hilt, pounding her cunt into ecstasy as she moaned dragging her nails sharply down his back. The wellfare of his bedding had not crossed his mind.

His answer was to lean down again and nuzzle deep down into her neck in the way they both adored. She wriggled and squirmed into his touch, he had shaved but the contrast of just regrowing stubble and those full soft lips kissing against her neck was enough to make a celibate nun swoon.

“Just, appreciating what a good _friendship_ we have.”

He smirked, only her neck swallowed up his smile as he pressed it to her skin. He decided the delectable column of her throat could have it as far as he was concerned.

The long running phrase between them had now morphed into a dirty little secret joke. Both for half their lives, when any family and friends had enquired into why they weren’t a couple, as they certainly acted like it, they would both always say the same three little words. That was, until close to two months ago in may after Libby’s cousins wedding where they had damned their hesitance and decided that hopping into bed with each other and giving romance a go was really a wise choice on both their behalfs. And now, their little private joke was that they would still say _“oh, we’re just friends”_ but now, when either one of them said it, they had a pact to have a mad wanting snog, the loser having been the one who said it had to get away with snogging the other and retaining their secrecy when they were alone together.

 Ben could recall when they had been at James Rhodes birthday party just last week. They had attended togther, all of James’s close friends huddled in his and Hatties small kitchen, drinking the expensive moet they had brought for the occasion and eating strawberry and rhubarb cake with custard icing. (odd request, but it was James’s favourite and Libby like the big softie she was had crumbled and made it for the man) and as James clinked glasses with his oldest and dearest friend, Ben, they had looked across to see the ladies gaggled about with Hattie, draining champagne from their own glasses. And it was at this exact point in time that the planets and earth and all the stars and galaxies aligned, just so much so that it meant a beam of setting evening light daggered through the window and tangled itself into Libby’s red hair, catching Ben’s eyes as she turned away from him, so he could see her smile tip upwards as she smiled at something Hattie had said. James raised a brow at his friend, as he had been mid toast in wishing him well as his words dissolved in his mouth, but then he followed Ben’s dribbly love lusty look, to see it was in fact either directed straight at the painting of his dog, Monty on the wall, or was looking at Libby in that way, James was therafter – really hopefully - leaning towards the notion that Ben was eye fucking the living hell out of the latter rather than the picture of his dog. Which begged him to raise the question of if they were ‘still friends’ Which Ben very – unconvincingly – confirmed. It wouldn’t do well to tell him that after Ben and Libby had got home that night, he had given her a sheet ripping, sweat dripping, loud screaming, legs trembling, hair pulling and ass smacking orgasm that left her unable to move a muscle – even when the next morning came.

“ _Ohh_.”

She moaned lowly, a sound that made him smirk and want to do what he just did to her all over again.

“You owe me a snog for that one…” She winked.

He smiled and dived for her lips. Trouble was, Libby then dragged her nails through the shoft silk of his hair, gasping and arching her back as his hands divided her thighs after he had pulled himself out from between them. He had evidently not intended to snog the _lips on her face._

“No, Ben. No more, I can’t take it. It’d be a sex overload…”

She whined. Laughing as she loved the notion she could be silly with him during their post coital bliss.

Ben, who was busy resurfacing from under the white sheets, let them bunch at his lower back as he slid back up over her, hovering close until he pressed his front to her curves, pinning her into the sweat soaked matress and sex rumpled bed and giving her another smooch. The duvet had been, in their haste for each others skin,  tossed to the floor much like that of a fate of a couple of pillows. And it was not until now they both truly realised how much of a whirlwind rough ride their sex had been, the bed had apparently taken the toll. The bottom sheet was ruched at the corners, so the matress top could be seen, and the sheets had been so pulled apart by Libby’s hands as he fucked her that he was damn sure he heard her fingers rip right through it at some point or another.

He rolled them so he was led on his right side, leaning into her spent body as she led there sunning herself, like a siren on the rocks. Libby swore if there was ever a time in life when she could purr, now would be it. Laying in the afterthroes of a yet another truly great shag, with a rather scrummy sexy man also naked by her side. Knowing he was her sexy little secret . Well, that would be enough to make any woman smile in true self confidence. All she needed now was a cigarette to truly round off the sexy moment. – but that she could live without. She loved this feeling. This elation that an unconfessed love could cause. Suddenly she felt like her life was a Cece Peniston song, or a Chaka Khan all woman power ballad. She certainly felt like singing…

Benedict tucked himself into her sweaty side. Mind, he was much in the same state. Beads of sweat were rolling down his forehead, and he could feel sticky rivulets of it running down his back too. He was wearing the symptoms of their shag proudly, begrudgingly he had coerced her back into bed for a day and a half. Yesterday being the day she had surprised him by showing up to greet him back home in nothing but a trench coat, stockings and heels. And that little stunt had given her more than 24 hours penance of being thoroughly shagged and plenty of oral cunnilingus as a reward. As per his promise in the email, he did let her out of bed for an hours break, but that turned into a nearly naked cooking session, with her making him fried bread soldiers to dip into his boiled eggs as he was ravenously hungry. She wasn’t surprised, they had both expended a rather large portion of energy in bed. They needed to restore it somehow. And the rather heartwarming position led to the two of them in his kitchen, her in nothing but his dress shirt and rumpled red hair, him in his pyjama bottoms, both sipping very hot tea and both singing along badly to ‘Fly Me To The Moon’ by Frank Sinatra as it tinkled out over the radio. But then after they had finished breakfast she had slunk off in the direction of his bedroom again, giving him that ‘come hither and get it’ smile and hot look in her eyes. And come hither and got it he had. Because the way intended to give it was through a blowjob that made him see stars behind his closed eyelids.

Unfortunately though, for tonight, he was out and she had no plans to be as such. He had to attend a premiere in leicester square for a friend as an A-list guest. And he had used the entire day as an excuse to fuck Libby, as he stated he would not have the evening with her. But he had shagged her into swearing that she would stay at his and make herself at home, she could loll about on his sofa and watch movies, or take herself out for a nice quiet dinner, and enjoy glass after glass of wine and a novel all to herself. No table companion to distract her. She hadn’t done that in ages. But she rather favoured staying in tonight with a good book in the bath maybe. Of course, Ben had told her she could attend with him, but Libby had twitched a disbelieving brow when he had said that. He’d spend the whole night unable to stop flirting with her if she sent in some unfairly nice dress, and then their secret would be kept no longer.

“Oh, I don’t want to leave this bed.”

Ben stated. Twisting his head to the side to place a smacking long kiss into her tangled hair as she was slumped into his side.

“You have too. You’re Britains sexiest man. You have obligations…”

She smiled. Easing the thin sheet out from under her so she could turn and sink into his side. The both of them slumping on one another like sexed out sloths.

“I don’t want obligations.. I want more sex.”

He lusted, eyes hungering at her curvy torso through the wispy sheer cover of his cotton bed sheet. Libby smiled as she felt his one long finger trail from her collarbone, down the centre of her heaving breasts, and all down the centre of her stomach.

“I’ll help you get ready?”

Libby asked him, sitting up and touching a lone finger to the short bristled stubble that littered his chin and cheeks. Loving how even his eyes smiled at her from the late afternoon sun which glinted in through his window.

That look in his eyes was his silent consent to her helping him.

“But seriously now, first things first…”

Ben uttered seriously, his voice a levelled monotone, and he dragged the white sheet down to expose her body, rolling his slender frame on top of hers once more.

She laughed and clutched her arm across his back as he bit into her neck again.

 

~

 

An hour later saw them both in very different positions in Benedict's flat. The bed had – finally – been vacated. And they were both in his bathroom. She had ushered him into the shower and had firmly disclosed that she _was not_ joining him as that would most likely end up in shagging, and him not making it out of the door tonight, which would mean he would be letting a friend down. And whilst Libby knew that wasn’t in his polite nature to dissapoint a friend, nor was it in hers to let him do so.

Libby had – once again – pulled on his blue pinstriped dress shirt. The Bananna Republic one that was wonderfully soft on her skin – not too crisp like some of his other dress shirts were. And she had much to Ben’s displeasure as he growled when she put them on, slid some boring blue knickers on and up her shapely legs. Ben glaring at her as she did before she gave him a smile and shut him up by shutting him in the perspex shower cubicle. Chiding him off, telling him to wash behind his ears like a good boy.

When he got out, she chucked a towel which hit him squarely across the face, and when he pulled it away, she could see those black swirls of dropped curled hair dripping silver droplets of water down onto his shoulders, weeping down his pale curved back in a way that made her want to soak up the drops with her tongue, tasting the way they mingled with the flavour that only his skin possessed. Feel the heat of his flesh under her tongue, especially that huge thing he was packing between his legs, she wanted to get her mouth round that too. To drive him mad.

Because he was doing that to her right now, standing there looking like some unfairly godly ancient deity fresh out of a dip into the sea off some greek island, and god, he smelled good too.. Because honest to god, she was sure there was some Bernini sculpture out there in the world that paled in comparison to this mans beauty. Especially when he was still wet and dewy from a shower, rivulets of water striping down between his sculpted pecs and the ridges of his abs. Hair long and unruly as it was wet and in wild dissaray. And she swares she nearly looses It as he sexily pushes his hair back from his head, slinging a towel low on his hips so she can see the outline of three of the things about him which drive her nuts – the outline of that ridiculously long and thick cock which she finds she is now _very_ horny for laying dormant against the apex of his legs, but she can still make out the impressive outline of it, plus the mouth watering scope of his tight ass that was as impecable as two scoops of vanilla ice cream at the back of the towel kilt he was sporting, and then last, but certainly not least was the two powerful pillars of his muscled thighs that stand proud and straining under the thin fabric. Too preoccupied with staring at his body and mentally giving him a good dressing down, Benedict watched her face as he shuffled a towel across the back of his sopping wet hair.

“Penny for them..”

He asked her crossing and standing directly next to her.

She is sure her brain was poised to answer him, but it doesn’t because all she can smell now is Neals Yard masculine shower gel, with madagascan pepper oil and lord knows what else, sounded a bit like a salad dressing, she granted him, but always made him smell divine when combined with his skin and the scent of the washing powder he uses that clings to all of his suits. He had to smirk though, because _still_ she wasn’t talking and hadn’t said a word.

“Bristles. Chin. You, need to shave..”

She blushed. Pointing at his cheeks, with burning cheek of her own before she turned back to the bathroom mirror. He liked that he could affect her just as much as she could render him equally as horny and useless. He also then realised with a twitch of a wry brow that she was lathering up soap in front of him in his shaving soap dish, running a sinkful of hot steaming water, which when was full enough, she stopped, and turned to the side, grabbing a razor and a towel. He watched as she turned to him and gave him a kind smile.

“I offer you my hands and assistance”

She smiled, putting on a french accent to purr the last word. Watching as his smile grew into a canary eating styled grin.

“Well, two hands are better than one, so they say.”

He smiled wolfishly at he, his brow raising in a spectacularly sexy manner that clipped her knees and made her a touch weak.

“How are we going to do this darling? Only you have a good full head above me.”

She added, gesturing to their height differences that he found adorable.

“Well. I’m not stooping, and I don’t plan on doing so until I am atleast in my late sixties…”

He japed. She leaned up on her tiptoes into his chest, layering the shaving foam across his lips, but where he was too tall and her hand was too shaky and uneven, he ended up with a large dollop pf the stuff hanging off his nose, and streaking up his cheeks in odd patterns. He peeked forwards and looked at his reflection in the hazy mirror, to see that indeed, the height would be a dificult factor if she was to help him shave above his cheekbones where she couldn’t reach unless she went and put heels on.

“Well. That’s all very well and dandy, lucky. But the end of my nose doesn’t _really_ require any stubble removal.”

He joked, looking like he had been smacked in the face with an off kilter cream pie like he was in a Charlie Chaplin comedy.

“Then I _require_ and demand some stoopage.”

She beamed, lifting an arched brow at him.

He grit his jaw.

“There is a very simple solution to this..”

He groused in a sexy grumble. Tucking his dewy body into her own, his damp upper half pressed to her shirt front. Feeling those infamously wonderful breasts crushed to his chest. Hands tucking under the shirt and skimming up to come to a rest at her naked warm waist, holding her lower back and keeping her close to him. His hands warm and soft on her skin.

“…and Sex is not it.”

She finished for him, holding the brush with the lathered soap on out of the way so she didn’t get any more all over him. Or on his shirt.

“Rats.”

He sighed pretending to be caught out by her dismissal of them having sex again. But she was swiftly shut up in her complaints as he bent to grab at the backs of both knees, bending to lift her up and plonking her peachy ass down on the counter next to the sink, shoving their toothbrushes out of the way and positioning her so that her knees were straddling the sides of his hips. Pressing his body right into her own so their personal space was practically nonexistant. And she is pressed up right close to that beautifully toned body, and the even more wonderful face, hidden under thick smears of shaving foam.

And then she begins, raking the razor down his stubbly cheeks, leaning over every stroke to wash away the flecks of soap and hair. Turning back to gradually see that handsome shaven jaw reappear from under the scented soap. Layering more down his throat, making sure she didn’t miss any spots. All the while, those slanted almond shaped eyes are watching her, such close intimacy allows for him to truly study the fine details of her stunningly pretty face that he knows he wants to spend the rest of his life looking at when he finds his mind slipping into boredom. Or, simply when he is in the mood for wanting to be captivated by her, and her looks alone. Lord, even _her blinking_ was pretty.

Cheekily, because, it just wouldn’t be Benedict if he wasn’t cheeky. His hands, which had gotten rapidly bored of being sat dutifully by her hips, slid upwards, coming to rest right on the very tops of her thighs, toying with the uninteresting edging on her boring blue knickers that she managed to make look sexy. Before they massaged and wandered upwards, fingers idly flicking the buttons on _his_ shirt. That was before he gave a wary little twitch of a smile that made her stop as she was shaving his left cheek, his smile creasing up meaning her job suddenly became very difficult.

“Ben-“

She told him off. Also chiding his roaming hands aswell.

“ _MY Shirt.”_

He grumped, still smiling.

Her answer was to smile back, and then completely ignore him, smiling still as she recaptured the shaven side of his chin and turned it gently to the right so she could refocus her efforts once again on not cutting his face and giving him a damn close shave. He chuckled far back in his throat at the fact she was stealing his clothes again, then lamented him into silence when he grumped about it.

 

She refocused her attentions once more, and his hands continued their rascally path. Up from her thighs to attatch themselves to his (but her) shirt buttons, looping one back through its hole, undoing it. His eyes flicked up to her own to see her small smile was the thing that counteracted his advances in slowly undressing her. He did the same to the next button. Her answer was to rinse the razor out, before starting next on his throat.

 

The next button.....  _Nothing_.

 

Nothing but her blinking as she smiled in the unspoken expression of ‘yes-I-know-and-am-very-aware-of-what-you’re-up-to-Batch’

 

There went the next button… it was undone to just coming up to the underside of her breasts. Just as his hands then reached round to smooth down her curved back, he found he was halted as she smiled wider at him.

 

“Oi. Keep those devious hands still. This is the tricky bit…”

 

She flirted. Looking enormously sexy to him in that moment.

 

But, nonetheless, he allowed her to tip his head backwards, her legs wrapping further about his hips as she tugged him all the more closer and swiped the razor up from the spot just a below his adams apple, very elegantly curving the razor up with a flick of her wrist, so it glided smoothly without a hitch across his skin. She carried on, rinsing the razor once more when she was done, before unplugging the soapy sink to drain the water away. Grabbing the towel next to her, she brought it up to his face and smooshed it all across his jaw, wiping away the stray smears of it that got in places it didn’t need to get. And back was the handsomely beautiful – smooth shaven – man. With his dark hair starting to curl with the dampness as it was still wet enough to be pushed back and held In place over his head. He looked sexy, and she couldn’t deny that she was more than a little turned on.

 

He then shuffles his chin into the side of her neck rubbing his smooth face against her. Inaudibly asking her if he felt shaved enough for her liking.

 

“Shaved enough Madame?”

 

 

He asked, tickling her with his chin, making her squirm and laugh out a yes, clasping her arms about his damp back.

 

When he pulls away, she _really_ cannot deny the sexual magnetism that pulls a sigh from her lips and causes her stomach to jump, and her blood to turn into hot coals coarsing through her veins. And it is obvious to him too. They both want each other. Something _fierce._

 

She looks downwards, blushing as she does, looking away from the evident heat in his eyes that was leering at her just like that of his smirk. One hand decided to brush down her back, tucking under the shirt again to find her warm, velveteen skin. Two of his fingers from his free hand that wasn’t pressed to her back, tip her chin up so she can meet with that hot look once more. The one she shyed away from.

 

 

“Even after all we’ve been through. Taking into consideration all the times we’ve fucked, seen each other quite naked. Very literally bared out our soul’s to one another, been all over each other, and hell. I’ve been inside you plenty of times enough, Yet I can still harness the power to make you blush?” He asked in a hot whisper

 

“Well. Can you blame me when you look at me like you want to devour me..” She whispers back.

 

He chuckles, a deep throaty and menacing sexy sound that instantly makes her wetter than an otters pocket.

 

“No. not really. Because I know without a doubt, that later, I will. I will completely devour you until my desire to make you have a screaming orgasm onto my tongue again leaves you utterly expended. But right now. I think you should be the first to know, I don’t need to knot this towel about my hips to keep it up, as I’m sure you can see for yourself, it’s doing a remarkable job of staying up by itself…” He lusted.

 

Libby followed the long line of his body to see in fact that he was _evidently_ hard. The outline of that magnificent cock now straining to stand proud and just shy of erect at the counter below her legs.

 

_“Oh.”_

She supposes in a soft moan. Her cheeks feeling treacherously hot.

 

What happens next was so fast. Libby can barely even register how it did happen. But all she knows is that she is not _undelighted_ with the transition. But she was snatched off the counter and hauled into Ben’s arms as her body is slammed with little care into the tiled stretch of wall next to the sink. And she is kept pressed there by the brute lean ness that was Benedict’s aroused body. Her skin startles at the feel of the cool tile which her back is smashed to. She finds that her (his) shirt is tugged harshly down, now with only one button holding its ground as the rest had been undone by his cheeky hands, leaving her very nearly exposed, but not quite. The neck of it was now down by her upper arm, baring most of her shoulder, which she finds his teeth sink into until he bites down hard enough to make her yelp. Head thrown back into the wall.

 

“ _Oh. I’ll give you, Oh, Turner_.”

 

He growls, as she finds his towel is then a crumpled pile on the floor, leaving him quite naked, and her knickers are clearly posing no discernable obstacle to him, as he just tucks them to the side before he grasps her body into his arms, pushes her up the wall, and plunges his cock deep into her sopping wet cunt. So quick, she doesn’t even have time to groan in unison with him at how good it feels to be completely stretched wide and fucked roughly.

 

The resulting moan which he pounds and forces out of her is, in a word. _Heavenly_.

 

Her shapely legs are crossed at his lower back now, calves brushing down past his rock hard ass that clenches and tugs with every hard thrust. The sex they had been having for the past day was nothing like this. In bed they had taken their time lazily and slobbenly pulling pleasure from each other. But this, this was entirely different. That had been shagging, This was _fucking_. Pure, primal and dirty.

 

All she could concentrate on was the way in which he set up the punishing pace of pulling his long thick shaft nearly the entire way out, before one sharp snap of his hips plunged his length all the way into her again in a heartbeat. It Is something which makes her question why they ever have slow sex when this is so obviously mind meltingly better.

 

“Fuck, you’re so wet.”

He moans, dragging his lips up the side of her neck, cupping her ass in his hands as he continues to thrust. And he whispers other things to her too. But she fears she doesn’t properly have time to take any of it in at the sensations this man was causing to erupt across her entire body, making every nerve ending sing with pleasure.

 

Things like how much he loves fucking her like this, how hard he is going to cum, how hard he was going to make her cum, how much he is looking forward to lapping at her sweet pussy later when he gets back, though it’s a shame he can’t do it now so he can have the taste of her lingering on his tongue all evening. So at some point, he can’t stop, pause, lick his lips, and smile like a filthy devil when he remembers how he used them earlier on to make is sexy red head cum all across them.

 

He grabs her ass tighter in his hands as his pace intensifies in a delicious way she never thought possible. Her nails starting to rake down his already sore and damp undried back, slipping and scrabbling to find purchase on his skin. Because she needs something, something which to allieviate the boiling pressure in her blood, and the pleasure that is dancing unhindered through every fibre of her being. His punishing pace relays to her that he is not far from cumming either. Because he was starting to grunt now too, no man could not start to unravel with the way she was clenching and pulsing like a hot wet vice around him. He could feel her cunt rippling along each slick plunge of his cock. And the sounds coming from her are driving him wild.

 

“I’m going to make you cum so hard. Libby. Cum for me, cum all over my cock.”

He snarls into her ear as he gathers her hair to one side and moves so deep within her she can see stars dancing in her vision when she closes her eyes, and her legs were beginning to shake and tremble to show how truly great he was at fucking her this way.

Flying out of her mouth now is a steady stream of moans, dispersed with little pleas and gasps of his name, mixed with gods. And right then, she is almost certain that he is one too. Because no mortal man could fuck as well as this _god_ could.

 

“Oh, Ben, I’m _cumming_ …”

 

She warns, her voice no more than a squeaking yelp. But he truly feels that was not quite enough fair warning as she then arches her back and lets out one long curse that indicates her orgasm was tearing through her like an all consuming wave. And also because he could feel her pussy clenching down on him as all of her muscles contract in pleasure, one of her hands finds its way into his hair and tugs, finding the purchase she truly needed earlier. Her pretty lips gape as she shuts her eyes and shouts her way through cumming, and judging by the way the insides of both their legs were now drenched, she kept to the promise of cumming all over his cock.

 

Fuuuuuuuccccckkkkkkk….”

 

She whines as she finished gushing all over him in a way that starts to set him off. His pace keeps up enough to tip him over the edge aswell, shoving her deeper into and up the wall of his bathroom as he snaps his hips harsher until he feels that sweet pang of pleasure inside of him pang free. Hands clawing into her ass now as he scrapes his teeth into her shoulder and part of her neck, grunting and shouting sexily as he empties thick floods of hot cum deep inside her, feeling some burst out of her and escape down her thigh.

 

His head stays where it was for the moment. Bent against her shoulder, placing gentle little kisses against her moist skin. Snuffling into her hair, that smelt like peaches and sweaty sex. And no wonder, they'd been going at it for nigh on two days now. Yet she still managed to reek of lavender and bright notes of her perfume. He doesn’t know how she did it, but he loved it all the same. She always managed to smell delectable to him.

 

After a moment or two, he lowers her shaking legs to the floor again, looking at the sexy aftermath of what it was like to get inside his secret red head and take her to heaven and back. Fucking her _beyond_ oblivion. Never mind into it, they were _well_ past into it now.

 

He watched as she clutched onto the wall for support. Hands scrambling across the tile, fixing her shirt that had slid off her right shoulder. Nothing was being bared to him, yet she was showing him so much all at the same time.

 

He braced himself over her, curving into the wall for supporting his wobbly jelly legs that sex with her left him with. Snatching the towel off the floor, he put it about his hips again to retain a portion of his dignity.

 

“I feel _very s_ orry for your neighbours below us. They must think we’re stuck in an O’Henry Erotica recital..” She supposed

 

Trust her to make him laugh hysterically until he is bent over double, and in the aftermath of some seriously great post coital bliss.

 

 _Oh Libby_. He thought with a smile and laughter on his lips.

_Don’t ever change… not even for a second._

 

 

 

~

 

 

Libby smoothed a hand down his suited front. She had helped him pick it out aswell. It was a classic look she had seen him sport many times before. A simple charcoal gray suit and tie, teemed with a waistcoat and shining black shoes that looked polished enough to double as mirrors.

 

Her brain was still getting over the hurdle that this was the man who had fucked her roughly against his bathroom wall a mere half an hour previously. It was definitely a two sided thing, here was the man you could take home to have tea with your granny and your mother, and trust him to sit and talk dutifully about children and sensible grown up things like moaning about traffic, council tax, gardening and Volvo's. And being the first one leaping up and offering to make the next cup of tea, taking up the offer of cake to be unfailingly polite, and cooing over baby photos. Also known as Mr Nice Guy.

 

Then there was the other guy, the guy who could give you an orgasm with the look in his eyes alone, he knew what he could get a woman to do, and that usually involved being fucked to within an inch of her sanity, him pulling her hair and fucking her hard his way until she screamed. The guy who would eat her out furiously until he’d had his fill, then, later when they were in the company of other people, he’d catch her eyes, lick his lips, wink, and smile. And grab her ass and pinch when he was sure no one was looking That guy could be known as Mr Sex in a Suit.

 

She’d said it before and she’d say it again, it was like a panther who still had his claws, even when they were sheathed. She adored that analogy, because it suited Ben down to the ground.

 

Once he was confident he looked pleasing enough to Libby’s trained eye, having dabbed on cologne to his expertly shaven face, brushed his teeth, done very little fussing with his hair to make it look great, having the whole droopy, I-woke-up-with-it-like-this look, on point. Cuffs secured, tie tightened, jacket buttoned up, and sexy smile on his face, and he was good to go.

 

Libby walked him to the door, dressed nicely and appropriately in her flimsy silk dressing gown, tied tight across her waist making her look sinfully good to his eyes. So much so, that when they get to his door, he slinks his arm around her and tugs her close, pressing a lippy confidant kiss to her lips. Making her smile into the smooch.

 

“I don’t know about you, But I’m going to be thinking about that _shave_ all night.”

He winked, looking down at her witch cheeky love in his eyes.

 

“Oh me too.” She assured, taking the side of his face into her hand.

“I’ll be thinking about it in a hot bath with a big glass of wine after I make myself dinner.”

She beamed, puckering a quick kiss to his full lips.

 

 _“Ohh….”_ He whined.

 

“You’ll be hot, wet, and naked. Why can’t I stay?..”

 

He moaned, wrapping his crisp suited arms about her short curvy frame.

 

“One, because we both know you can’t let your friend down. And two, because you have had far too much of me these past 48 hours. You may be on danger of overdosing on sex.”

 

She winked, opening the door and half heartedly shoving him out of it.

 

He braced both arms either side of the doorframe as he got out into the hall, peering in at her with a smile.

 

“Don’t wait up for me, darling, you need your rest.”

 

He winked, slinking off down the hallway, his long legs covering the distance quickly.

 

“Fruitless attempt Batch, You know I will regardless.”

She called after his retreating frame.

 

He turned back at the lift to shoot her a knicker mwlting smile.

 

“Ohhh, I got me a good _stubborn woman_.” He mocked In a southern drawl. 

 

She laughed as she shut the door gently. Her back resting to it as she smiled.

 

 

 

 

 

~

 

 

 

 

Not halfway through the evening, Libby had just finished her dinner, and was budy washing up and singing along to ‘Rock The Casbah’ cranked up full volume on Ben’s sound system, when her phone pinged with a message. An email. 

 

She dried her hands and crossed to answer it.

 

 

_From: Mystery-Gent-No.36_

_To: Foxy_Red_Lady_

_Subject: There's no 'Friend' quite like you, dear..._

 

 

_You know I’ve always found a good old fashioned close shave can oft have a very steadying affect._

_I find myself now wanting nothing but my bed, and your welcoming arms to clasp me into when I get home. Whats say you? Sound fair?_

_Oh, and did I mention that I bloody well sodding love you, Red?_

 

_food for thought..._

_B x_

 

~

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  Well. hopefully that smutlet has left you feeling a little like this;

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

..And if it has not, then I have not done my job properly...

 

\- Author

  x

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Fa Fa Women, Cabinet's and Hide and Seek...

 

 

A heavy shroud of night had definitely descended over London now. After her finely suited lover had slid out of the door and away to his premiere, Libby had indulged herself in her own company. She whipped up a meal from the newly purchased contents of his fridge, and ate it at his kitchen counter, a chilled glass of white wine at her side as she listened to her favourite queue of soul music over Ben’s music system, and she ate looking across over the brightly lit London night. Loving her quitely humble and lovely solitude for a few precious hours while Ben was away. If he was here, no doubts he’d find some way to get her naked and under him again. of that she was sure.

She then tipped down the entirity of her wine, and moved to begin to load the dishwasher, after atleast two sizeable glasses of wine, she’ll admit, she did feel a little tipsy and silly, so she elected to let the ‘Rock the Casbah’ blare through his flat, the base thumping off the walls, as she sang along badly, headbanging and whirling around dancing with no hindrances to her wild movement’s, she also realised then, she was only dressed in Benedict’s shirt with some flimsy laced pants on underneath. Even this didn’t stop her, she rocked her hips, she wiggled her ass, and strutted about pretending to play the guitar like she was performing live at Wembley stadium with the band themselves.

The look and her moves, she thought, were perfected to a near ultimately glorious degree, especially when she stood at the sink washing up large plates in yellow marigolds. Swaying side to side as she sang and shimmyed her body about. Her phone then pinged, and as she snapped off the gloves – damn near slapping herself in the face with the wet bubble covered rubber because she was just _that_ sauve – and her phone revealed she had gotten a text from Ben. Saying that he was still thinking about ‘ _that shave’_ and something else so Benedict-like about bloody well loving her.

Which made her smile. She wasn’t shocked by the confession of his love for her, she was just always overwhelmed at the fact that no matter how small or big his romantic gestures, they always left her reeling and wanting to kiss his handsome lips off.

She smiled and put her phone down. Walking away to dry the dishes and return them back to the rightfully indexed marked places in his cupboard. A system she had painstakingly ordered had to be put in place due to the fact that the oaf he was would jumble his chinaware anywhere he could find room. And she had stayed at his one new years, along with Tom, awaking and walking to the kitchen the next morning to see the two of them, both too hungover to function, eating cereal from clean saucepans. That was Ben and Tom all over..

She smiled as the memory as she reached up on tiptoes to stow the plates away in the top cupboard. Satisfied that her ‘cleaning commandant nazi’ habits as Ben oft called them, had been served to. She grabbed the chilled bottle of wine, and her glass. And liked that Ben had naughtily brought her a box of french truffles which she had found with a giggle of glee earlier, tucked away into the fridge. She grabbed her booze and her chocolate goodies and collapsed into a sighing and happy relaxed lump onto Ben’s big squishy sofa.

She had helped him pick out the new one after Rachel had left. She bloody woman had got rid of his old sofa, saying it was ‘stained’ and ‘saggy’, and replaced it with a silly eye wateringly expensive french seatee, of which the material was scratchy, and if you sat on it for longer than half an hour, you’d need extensive back surgery to fix the damage it had done to your spine.

After the Ben/Rachel break up, he had enlisted his then best friend again/slash soon to be lover, to help him choose another. He got rid of everything in his flat that made his mind echo back to the woman he had almost made the mistake of marrying. The _flat felt_ like Ben’s again now, she mused looking around the homely bric-a-bracs and souvenirs from his travels, that lined every shelf. She adored how he had the Great Gatsby poster she brought for him, years ago now, sat in pride of place in his home, above the mantel. The eyes of Dr. T.J Eckleberg. The oculist, watching over his apartment. Libby smiled in knowing that it was his much needed sanctuary again. It was a space he was in control of once more, not a place of war or unfamiliarity at the hands of a commandeering, control freak, Madam of a girlfriend who wanted to change everything about him, and his home.

True to rights, Ben threw away _every aspect_ of her after she had left. Ushering in a new era, and a new both best friend and lover to stay - _for good –_ he had already decided on his own.

She faffed about on Netflix for a while, until she found the perfect film to indulge herself in. ‘Chocolat’ starring a very young and yummy looking Johnny Depp, and making her dive headfirst into her box of truffles. The lights she had dimmed low, sat in pleasant half darkness, the glow of a couple of candles, and the light from the telly. She burrowed into the sofa and wrapped a comfy blanket across herself, watching as the credits began to roll. Licking chocolate off her fingers and supping more wine, so much so, she felt her body slip into easy carefree relaxation…

 

And then her phone pinged with a message…

And _again…._

And _then again……_

 

She frowned, sitting up, pausing the film and throwing away the warm cocoon of her blanket, swiping the screen to see what his urgent rapid fire of messages meant… and once she saw what the first one read, she sat there with a bemused frown on her face, pulling down her features in bewilderment.

 

_‘Hide.’_

 

 _Hide?_ Libby thought, her frown utterly prominent and at it’s most confused it had ever been. As requests went, it wasn’t completely out there, she was just left trying to decide what had caused it.

 

_‘Are you playing some sort of weird, hide-and-seek- sex game, with me, or something?”_

 

She responded, typing fast and taking another long swig of cold crisp white wine.

 

“ _Please my sweet darling, just hide, please. The spare room or something! Go, now! Quickly!”_

 

He replied in almost a millisecond. Her frown had still not left her forehead. She stood, half empty glass of white wine in her hand. Utterly stuck… If a scientist scanned her brain activity now, they’d get nothing but a drunken dazed reading of ‘ _Whhhhaaaaaa????—‘_

 

_“Are you going loopy?”_

 

She asked, texting him back, hoping for a response to soothe her current confused state.

 

 

That was before she heard the soft but sure treads of footsteps making their way along the hallway to his front door. She could hear Ben’s deep timbre of a voice before he even came within three hundred metres radius of her, she rolled her eyes, thinking of that aspect of him wryly, but what made her curious was that she heard a high pitched burst of feminine laughter not long after he had spoken.

 

_He wasn’t alone…_

 

Her eyes shot wide…

Realising only now that he had meant for her to hide _herself away_ for the sakes of maintaining _their_ shagging secrecy.

 

And _now_ he was coming in through the door…Just the other side of it.

 

Now, Libby, it was safe to say, was _not_ an athletic woman.

She was curvy and stocky, slender of course, but that was her keeping in shape with no extra exercise from the multiple jobs she rushed to and from around London, all of which were cab or walking distance from her house. She had never been, and never would be, one for sports or exercise. And the only time she every used her gym card, was when she wanted to one, make use of the excellent Swedish spa facilities, or two, to jimmy open her front door when it got stuck. Taking this into consideration, how she had never been of any use to school sports teams, and if she even so much as began to jog, her body reminded her instantly why she shouldn’t. She was unfit, and not an athletic type of creature. She was made to be somewhere sat at a desk, with tea at her side, drawing. That was her lifes calling…

Even so, being a woman of next to no exercise, and proud of it, she managed to dart across his flat so quick, you’d think that she had _fires_ lit under her feet.

She ran across to his kitchen, scattering like a mad fool as fast as her portly legs could manage, but it appears, that was as far as she was going to make the cut…

She looked in terror across the flat, eyes wide, and a stray coil of red hair covering one eye, sticking to her lip as she gaped across to the doorway which Ben was now shimmying open from the other side. He had taken a few clever seconds and rattling his key in the lock, twisting it, and tugging it this way and that to bide her more time. Muttering something idle to his companion with a mumbled smile on those cupids bow lips, she fancied, how the keys _sometimes stuck a bit…_

 

 _“Which is a blatant lie”_ Libby thought quickly,

 _“The keys he had had been cut less than two months ago. Well played, Batch. Well played. Bravo.”_ She granted him.

 

But now, she is in real trouble. Because she watched as now he swings the door open, and sees her stood floundering in her reverie behind his kitchen counter, looking rumpled and sexy, dressed in nothing but his shirt, yet at the same time, much like a bedraggled rabbit caught in the proverbial headlights, as it were.

He quickly sprung to action as she she stood there panicking, and a little drunk. So her reflexes were a bit slow to the catch.

He stumbled for a second, walking in slowly, before he flapped his hand, pointing down, to tell her she just needed to crumple her knees and vanish out of sight. So she did, she just ducked, and he watched the curvy frame of her, and all that wild red hair, duck behind his kitchen cupboards as they walked in, him swallowing with tense panic, before he realised all he now need do, was not let the woman behind him, go anywhere near the kitchen.

Libby had managed to catch a fleeting glimpse of the woman who was swayed in behind her lover, she was all willowy arms and slender limbs. And she looked flawless in her backless black evening gown.

Libby felt a slight twinge of jealousy, wishing she had a body type that meant she could wear dresses such as that, but as it was, _always_ , when _she_ tried on backless long dresses made for more slender women, the low cut bust could barely contain her breasts, making them look incredibly NSFW, and like she was living in the playboy mansion as a surgically enhanced bimbo whose name was ‘candy’ or something as equally as white trash, or indeed, sounded like a hooker’s name.

And plus, she was so short too, _embarassingly so._ So that when she put on those elegant dresses, she had a train a mile long, that women like this one would _never have_ , because their legs were long and went on for days. Women like this one had spidery long legs, and breasts that would barely cause her any problems whatsoever.

Libby frowned down unempathetically at her large bust, stubby legs, too thick thighs, and her fat bottom. Going into a little pit of shame as she remarked that her wiry, lean and impossbly tall lover looked more suited stood next to this _strange_ woman, than he did next to her.

She was pretty too, that didn’t help.

She had a wide letter box mouth that all men would find voluptious and sexy. And it was slicked with a layer of fine red lipstick that showcased her probably perfectly white teeth. Her face was long and pointed, not quite beaky, but not blunt either. Her cheekbones looked jagged enough to sharpen knives on them. And just in case this wasn’t at all unfair, she had wonderfully shiny rich brown hair that was pinned perfectly up off her stunning face. Down from her ears dripped large silver dangling earrings that swayed in the light. And Libby thinks she saw that her eyes were brown, but she couldn’t be sure. They were housed however under a set of tweaked and shaped brows.

She looked clean, polished and posh. Whereas Libby, no matter how hard she tried, always felt she looked a little bit _frayed_ around the edges. Her hair was too wild and thick to be tamed and shiny like this woman’s was, and there was, she thought in odes to her measurements, too much of everything on herself. (Too much boobs, breasts, tummy and thigh) whereas this lady looked of all the right tiny, perfectly balanced, proportions. She _hated_ that. She also detested right then how she would never be a truly dazzling red carpet worthy spectacle. No. She'd be the one who'd manage to spill something down her front, or trip and fall flat on her nose. That was who she was meant to be. 

So, to summarize, Benedict had a graceful goddess of a woman who he looked like he belonged with, and whom of which both their genes would produce immaculately beautiful children, the other side of his flat, laughing at his jokes and flirting with him. And Libby, _well_. She was crouched behind his Kitchen counter, _in her pants,_ and a shirt with choclate melted onto it, _hiding_ from them both.

_Yep. Folks. Story of my bloody life.._

She thought glumly.

As she had to remain ducked away out of sight, she could only hear what they were saying.

“Oh, you have _such a nice_ place, Benedict.”

She offered, forwardly. Her voice was calm but commanding. A whiny nasal tone that Libby wanted to growl at. She may have looked lovely, but she didn’t sound it.

Libby heard him do that throaty chuckle of his that made her stomach and gut yearn in a low pinch to instantly want to _kiss_ him.

 _She loved his throaty, rumbly, sexy, deep, husky laugh_.

Her heart sank. She could feel it get heavier and drift slightly out of place in her chest, like a boat without an anchor. 

She remembered she loved how he would cuddle her close when they were naked in bed together, and _that_ laugh would tickle hot breath across her earlobe making her tingle in pleasure all over.

She liked it also when they were at dinner at some swanky posh place, where they should both display polite decorum, and she would utter something rude or funny that would cause him to splutter _that breed_ of laughter into his wine glass at her, unable to help doing so, and then follow with that sexy crinkly smile which made his eyes and mouth line at the sides with wrinkles that she wanted to set her lips upon. 

She adored how he nudged her in the ribs at premieres when she was nervous, and eased her scared mood with a joke they could both savour. Again. _That laugh_ would come to her rescue to edge away her terse thoughts. Dissolving them for her. 

And what she _definitely didn’t like,_ was how this nasal goddess was on the receiving end of it, now.

_She didn’t deserve that sexy laugh._

Libby thought moodily to herself. _Someone who has loved him for nigh on sixteen years deserved it instead…_ she grumped.

“Yeah, thankyou. It keeps the heat in.” He offered humbly.

“Please, take a seat…” He offered.

Libby heard the woman relax her body into the cocoon of a blanket she herself had been happily wrapped up in until a moment ago.  

_Hell. That made her grumpy too..._

And because he was Ben, Libby supposed, he could do nothing else but be generously polite to this woman who had intruded on their meant to be free – _shag fest_ \- evening with each other.

“Oh, _goodness_ , did you know you left candles on when you went out?”

Prim-and-nasal miss posh and perfect asked, gesturing to the lavender candles that Libby had lit not five minutes ago.

The redhead winced at that, she should have blown them out.

“Oh _, shites_ , clumsy me. Lucky escape there, hey?”

He asked rhetorically leaping up and expelling a sharp _puff_ of breath to make the flame sizzle into curling smoke as he extinguished them. Spluttering something about himself being too uncareful for his own good. Levelling a shrewd accusing stare to the counter that Libby was crouched behind, across the kitchen.

“Oh. Well. This is lovely..”

The woman sighed happily, Libby heard the sofa rustle as she reclined herself deep into it. Libby had a feeling if she caught sight of the lanky posh bitch curling up into _her_ boyfriend, she’d grab the nearest carving knife that was just in her reach from where she was hiding, and get immediatley set about on _murdering_ the silly woman.

She could just picture the skinny thing, now, leaning back into Ben’s chest, crossing her legs and her hand teasingly stroking up his tie…

 _His_ tie that _Libby_ had knotted about his neck for him earlier, and to which he had rewarded her with a biting, teeth scraping kiss, on her throat, sucking a _deep dark_ love mark to the side of her neck.

Her hand absent mindedly reached up to touch the aching mark his lips had left on her, then. Trying to remind herself that this woman was here after something that Ben could offer her for the night, but that was vastly outweighed by the fact that Ben had wanted Libby in _that way_ for nigh on two days now.

That was a confidence booster, at least, thinking of it like that.

“Yes. This is… _ah.uh. Yeah._ Would you like some wine?”

Ben asked quickly, gabbling as he leapt up from the sofa, his shoes making a clattered sweep across the wooden floor as he moved. His voice was going high pitched and panicking, in the way that it always did when he could tell someone was coming onto him, yet felt he was humbled and undeserving of their affections and advances.

Libby smiled to herself, she knew that voice well. It was Ben’s ‘panic’ voice. All whiny and pitch when in contrast to his usually jaguar cello earthquake causing, oil drilling, sex tone.

“Oh, go on then. That’d be nice..”

Mrs Nasal purred after him. Her tone flirty and advancing as always.

Ben chuckled.

“You, Stay _right there_ , I’ll get it, red or white?”

He asked nicely. Ordering her to stay where she was.

“Wow, chilvarly isn’t dead after all.” She chuckled impressed by his politesse.

“Red please.”

She insisted. Voice straying into regions of flirtiness.

_Steady on now love..._

Libby smirked. Biting her lip so she didn’t laugh out loud.

_The reason he’s being so ‘chivalrous’ is because his secret lover is hiding crouched over here behind the dishwasher and really doesn’t want anyone to discover that he is shagging his best friend of 16 years…_

_But sure. Of course, dear..._

she remarked.

_Chivalry was entirely the reason that Ben was fetching the wine…_

Libby stayed crouched, watching as nothing but the view of Ben below hip height came into her vision. Acting cool and suave as he sauntered over to where she was crouched. She only had a fine view of his charcoal grey suited legs.

Peering up at him through curls of red hair that were thrown wildly over her face, and up through those long lashes. She beamed up at him, suddenly unable to find this scenario nothing but hilarious.

“ _She’s nice_.”

Libby hissed quietly.

Ben swallowed, light smile to his lips to retain his composure, but not looking at her, as he muttered a

“Shut-up.”

As one long word between his gritted teeth.

“Careful. I’m at a good position from which to _bite you_ from down here…”

She hissed, wanting to so easily lean over and sink her teeth into his calf and make him _yelp_ unless she was rewarded with an explanation.

Try explaining _that_ random shouting outburst to the nasal toothpick who was busy reclining on his sofa.

“Bare-with-me.”

He hushed, before he reached for something ahead of him atop the counter. It was the remote for his music, Libby noticed. And to which he pointed to his music system and made a soft jazzy playlist tinkle nicely out of the speakers.

“Bit of uh, mood music…”

He explained across the room to the woman who smiled at him from his sofa. But this clearly displeased the woman crouched on the floor by his knees.

He felt her swipe his calf. Hitting him with a clip of her hand. 

"I won't _be ignored,_ Dan.."

She hissed, mockingly. Mimicking Glenn Close from Fatal Attraction. 

Libby just knew he had put it one to cover up the sound of _her muttering to him…_

“Oh, mood music, _you smooth sod_. You planning to _get lucky_ tonight?”

She asked wryly in a hush, slumping onto the floor, stretching her legs out in front of her, and crossing her arms, smiling up at him in a way that he found infuriatingly smug and japing of her. A proverbial prod in the ribs to the situation he found himself in.

“Why, _you_ offering to put out?”

He smiled down to her, keeping his gentle composure. Libby didn’t like to point out he had taken _five minutes_ to pour _one_ glass of white wine.

“No. But I think skinny minnie might be..” Libby smiled.

He had to bite his lip trying not to laugh.

“Will-you-let-me-explain?”

He asked in a rush. His hand picking up the corkscrew that he would use to unscrew the red wine bottle, but Libby watched as he very easily -on purpose - and obviously dropped it the floor, at his feet, it clattered and nearly hit against her thigh.

“ _Oops_ , butter fingers..”

He exclaimed a trifle _too loudly_ for it not to be staged, grinning as he was talking across to the brunette on his sofa, before he dropped to a crouch down beside his red head.

“If this is your not very at all subtle way of introducing to me that you would like to participate in a threesome, then I’m bloody bollocking going to put your unmentionables in a vice and twist tighter and tighter until you have a voice higher than a bee-gee..” Libby growled.

Ben stared her down with a serious look that warned her to listen intently to whatever he had to say next.

“I _don’t_ want a threesome..” He replied drily.

“Good.” Libby offered tersely.

“Because if I wanted to dissapoint two people at once, I’d go to dinner with my parent’s…” She added.

Ben fought to not snicker into a laugh.

“Will you hush..” He smiled.

She smiled across to him. And in that moment, Benedict couldn’t deny he found her so utterly enchantingly _sexy_ , sat there, cross legged and armed, in his shirt and her pants, appearing curvy and sinfully beautiful _as fuck,_ and finding this entire thing a hilarious spectacle. He knew then that had there _not_ been a skinny woman reclining on his sofa the other side of his flat, busy trying to get a little drunk, and into his pants. Then he would have _taken_ her right there on his kitchen floor, were he able. Proving to her how much he wanted _this feisty_ red, over a rich brunette any second, of every day, of every week, every month, and every year for the _rest_ of his life.

“Her name’s Cressida.” He explained.

Libby raised one perfectly arched brow at him.

“Cressida..”

She repeated drily.

He rolled his eyes to the side for a second. Clearly he didn’t like her name either.

“A Ra, Ra, Ra, jolly hockey sticks kind of girl is she?” Libby asked.

Ben ground his jaw together.

“All horse teeth, and Mummy and Daddy, Henley and centuries of inbreeding to give her the huge hawking nose, _oh,_ and I bet she goes horseriding, and has a butler too. Is his name ‘Jives’?” Libby asked.

Ben sighed, exhaling angrily as he closed his eyes.

“She is a friend.”

“Well, going by the way she wants wine and is practically ready to throw down and consummate your ‘friendship’ right there on your sofa, I’d say she’s after a _tad more_ than simple companionship…” Libby explained.

 _The woman is gaging after a good hard shag_ … She thought.

“She is coming onto me isn’t she?” He remarked with horrified revulsion.

“Buckle up, _Batch_ , She may let you get a glimpse of what nether regions lie south inside her Harrods knicker elastic…”

Libby giggled. Because it was just _so_ funny.

“That’s not funny. That’s a place I really _don’t_ want or desire to be..”

“Then heaven and earth man, why is the woman on your sofa?” Libby hisses through a smile. 

“Because, she can _be quite_ forceful, and she insisted that we _‘just’_ share a cab.. and then she wanted to see the inside  _‘my flat’_ ….” He explained in agony.

She laughed at his genteel politeness.

_Oh. Gentle. Simply sweet, naive man._

“That’s women code, Ben. ‘Do you want a coffee?’ is the invitation to come up and make out, and ‘Let me see where you live, or what is your flats like’ is code for I want to do the underpants removing Charleston with you and stay the night..." She offered truthfully. 

Ben looked more than a little horrified by the idea. 

"Seriously?" He asked lowly. 

Libby's grin scared him. 

 _"_ Ben. _M’dear_ , The only part of your flat this woman wants to glimpse at _,_ is either _your headboard_ or _your bedroom ceiling_ …” She smirked wisely.

“I am not finding this as funny as you are…” He insisted.

“And hold onto your belt loops, Because I think it looks like she has plenty of hot sexual energy cooped up for you… She want’s you to get a feel of her 'Best in show'…” Libby beamed.

“ _Do. Not_. make this any _worse…_ ” He pleaded stiffly.

“I’m sat hiding from your ‘date’ on the kitchen floor, beside your washing machine in my _pants_ , Ben. Why in all of christendom, and her majestys corgis, would I want this situation to get _worse_?…” She asked.

“I’ll try and get her to _leave,_ somehow…” He offered impossibly.

Libby snorted into disbelieving laughter.

Ben looked wary all of a sudden.

“Is she ever going to leave?”

He asked her, she was a woman. She knew the ‘ _code_ ’

“Not with her pristine sexual dignity or knickers, intact, no.” Libby added.

“You’re going to need an iron-clad, water tight honey glazed gold of an excuse to force her into going…” She pointed out.

“You probably need to straighten up now. Unless you’re _mentally defficient_ , it doesn’t take you _ten minutes_ to scramble about on your kitchen flloor after a corkscrew..”

She informed him, pushing her hand into his thigh as if the motion would straighten out his leg, and make him stand up.

“Act as close to normal as you can..” She hissed.

He resurfaced from behind the counter, facing Cressida like a meerkat popping up from it’s burrow. Stupid grin on his lips as he tried to look as _regular_ as he could manage.

“ _Got_ it.”

He exclaimed, watching her smile in a pretty – yet _predatory_ manner – across at him.

“Slippery little bugger.”

He laughed off uneasily. Moving to unscrew the bottle.

“Don’t worry. Take your time, Ben, I’ve got _all_ night..” She winked, purring.

Libby had to clap her hand over her mouth and giggle into it.

Ben chuckled, before glancing down to Libby.

“ _Help-me, how-do-I-get-rid-of-this-woman?”_

He asked searchingly, laughing unsteadily through his speech to cover his words spoken to his lover whom was still crouched, hidden tucked away right by his knees.

‘Excuse’ Libby mouthed up to him.

Patting him on his kneecap, before sending him out into the proverbial no mans land at his sofa. Where the most dangerous thing he could encounter lay in wait. No bombs, or guns, No. A determined Brunette who was _really_ wanting to find out what his ‘bedroom manners’ were like.

Frankly. Libby thought, If that had been the case in WW1, facing the enemy, and going over the top as it were, would have been _a lot_ less terrifying.

“One red wine…”

He offered, holding out the glass to Cressida. _The predatory toothpick_. As Libby had nicknamed her, as she caught a quick glimpse at her taking the wine from him and near instantly took a long, gulp of it.

 _“Ok, this woman is here for nothing other some hot and rough drunken - de-robe, then thoroughly probe- sex, make no mistake about it…”_ Libby supposed dryly.

“How did you know I adore this film? Johnny Depp, wow, _so dreamy_..” Cressida suddenly spoke up.

Benedict _froze._

“ _What?_ ”

He asked to her, and to himself. Stomach dropping in horror.

She pointed to his TV screen, where Libby had been scrolling through Netflix, and had come across the film. She had left it paused with the title, ‘Chocolat’ etched across the screen. She may have just landed her lover in a whole heap of trouble…

 _Mwahaaa_. She felt like cackling. 

“Chocolat. How did you know It’s one of my _absolute_ favourites?..” Cressida grinned lustfully.

“ _Ohh._ ” Benedict grinned.

“Excellent. Yes. I, _huh, how_ uncanny…I _love_ this film too. Like two peas in a pod.”

He smiled through gritted teeth and a very blatant lie. Sitting himself a respectable distance away from the woman, taking the wine in his glass back all in one go. She watched him do this with keen interest. _He certainly wanted to get drunk quickly_ … She thought.

Cressida shuffled closer, her bony hip brushing into his, smiling as she closed the gap as Ben pressed play _. Gulping_ as he felt her advance closer.

He closed his eyes for a second as he exhaled. Dreading the long awkward evening that sat ahead of him.

 _Oh sweet merciful lord, Smite me now, oh mighty smiter_ , He thought to himself.

 _I really have no wish whatsoever to get a gander south inside the silly womans harrods knicker elastic as Libby put it…_ He remarked to his own head. His eyes flickering longingly over to the row of kitchen cabinets that closed away his one and only _true lover_ away from sight of them both across the large open plan space of his flat.

They sat in mute silence as the film unfolded, They watched as Viane and Anouk followed the northern winds to a little french town during Lent, and meet a grumpy Judi Dench who is to be their landlady. All the while, Benedict’s head was rolling over and constantly ticking with thoughts of what he could use as his excuse to get Cressida out of his flat. (Minus her furious persistance to catch a glimpse of his nether regions)

“Are you ok, Benedict? You seem a little… _Tense_ …”

She cooed sexily, sitting forwards and tucking one leg under herself, her hand tentatively reaching to brush down the inside of his lapel. Feeling the pure all male heat of him _burn_ through his shirt for her. She skimmed her fingers low over his stomach. He had to fight hard to to instantly _slap_ her hand away, his body prickled with uncomfortable nerves that told him it _wasn’t Libby’s hand_ reaching down south to try and cop a fondle, and as such, that _was not ok._

“No-No. I-I’m fine. Honestly.” He grinned.

“You look a little distracted, is there something _, preying_ , on your mind?”

She asked nicely, but flirtily, tilting her head, and reaching over to cart a stray swirl of tousled hair back from his forehead as she spoke. Ben sat as straight as a rod, and as still as a rock as she did. Trying not to let out how nervous he was.

 _No. Nothing preying on my mind. But here sits a too courteous idiot whose got a determined woman preying on his body…_ He japed.

And he realised those words were something he could never say aloud. So his brain searched hard for an alternative….

“Just. I, uh, I. Have… um.”

He fought. Blinking. His brain had never had to work so hard for information in all of his life.

He eyes flew over to the kitchen counter, where his stomach damn near dropped to the lobby five floors below, then bounced back up again.

He could see _Libby’s hand_ reach up dangerously across the counter. More importantly, he could see it quickly reach for the bottle of red wine he had left over there. He bit down hard on his lip, _bloody woman._ She used what she could hear as them conversing as cover to get some wine while she was at it.

“I..”

He exclaimed loudly, nearly shouting to get Cressida’s attention to look his way, seeing Libby’s hand dart into hiding again. The bottle of wine in her grasp. He sighed in relief, she was sat to his left, and he on the right. As long as she looked to him, and not to his kitchen at that very second. He would be alright.

He eyes then caught the box of chocolates on the coffee table. He had stashed them away in his fridge, which, incidentally, his curvy red lover had found and tucked into.

“I… didn’t offer you ..a….a..chocolate…”

He grinned, leaning forward and untangling himself from her hands as he plucked to box up from the coffee table and offered her one.

“Oh..”

She purred, eyeing him up more than she was the truffles.

“Wine, Chocolates, a sexy french film. Are you trying to _seduce me_ , then Ben?” She asked with a laugh.

He chuckled.

 _Oh, you have no idea…._ He thought.

“Just being polite..”

He added, standing the box down again. Usually, he would have dug in. But his mouth was woolly and nervous, and his palms were starting to sweat. He didn’t favour that eating chocolate right then, would really be a very _wise_ choice.

He panicked again as he saw Libby’s hand reach up for a second time. He really was going to _kill her_.

He watched with eyes wide in alarm as she tugged a magazine down, sliding it silently across the counter to her little nest. Thankfully, he watched the spectacle out of the corner of his eye, and Cressida saw none of it.

“I have to disagree, I would say you’re being so much more than just polite..”

She rasped, sneaking her hand directly up his thigh. Feeling the hard column of solid muscle that built it. If he had doubts that she was coming onto him before, then he had none whatsoever now, she practically crawled on top of him so she was nearly on his lap…

“I’ve wanted you since I first saw you tonight on that red carpet. Oh, Kiss me, Ben…”

She urged fiercely, tugging her hands into his hair and pressing her lips over his.

He made a muffled complaint that was swallowed up into her mouth. His hands paused in mid air, held up, not wanting to touch her as she arched her body onto him.

She pulled away, surveying him with a lustful pant before she decided to try and dive in again.

“Where’s your bedroom?” She asked.

“ _Parents..”_

He stuttered out at last, his voice odd sounding and squeaky.

“I’m sorry?”

She asked, her ardour doused. As his answer had not matched up to her question.

He looked over to the kitchen again, seeing that Libby reached her hand up again. Giving him a crude thumb up for his excuse. 

“My parent’s. Are. Coming. Early. Early in the morning, they’re getting into London for about six. And uh, I well.. you.. should..” He fought.

“You want me to meet your parent’s?”

She asked in a heartfelt manner.

 _This woman does not give up._ He remarked with astonishment

He swallowed, looking utterly done in. And he also swore blind he heard Libby snigger over by his cupboards, before clapping a hand across her mouth. Luckily, the sound of he still running film covered any noises she made.

He grit his teeth. 

“While _that would_ be lovely, um, not _as such_ no. But they will be here in, oh, _ha_ , look at that. Six hours…”

He laughed uneasily, seeing that his watch read five to midnight.

He rose from the sofa and offered her a hand to help haul to woman to her feet.

“I hope you understand, and I also hope we could do this again soon…”

He explained, smiling as he now wanting nothing but to very politely but swiftly _boot_ her headfirst out of his front door.

“It was a lovely date..”

She purred. Moving where he gestured her too.

“Absolutely divine..”

He lied through his teeth.

“Oh, can I use your bathroom for a sec?”

She asked, smiling nicely across at him.

Ben nearly _whimpered_.

“Of _course,_ you can _USE THE BATHROOM_..”

He panicked. Saying the words loudly like he was deaf. But making sure Libs heard him too.

If Cressida went to use his bathroom, then she would walk past, and no doubt see the sight of Libby – drinking red wine from the bottle and reading a good food magazine – sat hidden behind the cover of his kitchen cupboards.

“Thankyou..”

Cressida spoke, somewhat wearly at his loud volume.

Libby rolled her eyes hearing his words, having been taking a long swig of wine, she nearly spat it out as she heard him speak.

Muttering several ‘bollocking, wanking, shite, shitbags..’ under her breath as she tried to find somewhere to conceal herself.

She opened his spacious cupboard where she kept his cereal indexed aphabetically.

_“Needs must.”_

She supposed. Wriggling about to achieve her aim…

Ben meanwhile, was busy stalking Cressida down the large hallway of his flat, coming up to the kitchen now, sweat beading across his brow, maybe if he walked her quickly enough, he could usher her into his tiolet and get Libby out of the way and out of sight whilst she was shut in there.

He peered left, now. His stomach was in his ears as he looked to the row of cabinets and saw….

Nothing. 

He saw nothing. 

He sent a silent thanks to his ever crafty, ever resourceful and quick thinking lover, whom he was going to snog senseless as a thankyou as soon as Cressida had been unceremoniously thrown out of his flat. And come hell or high water, he _was bolting_ the door shut behind her, and wiring it with explosives in her wake, _just in case._

All Cressida could see as she passed Ben’s kitchen was that one cupboard door had been left wide open halfway down. Hiding Libby away as she was ensconced inside the cupboard. As far as the woman was concerned. She wasn't there. 

Libby – it was safe to assume – was not in the most comfortable state she had ever been in. She had a box of weetabix poking into her ribs, she was sure she had dismembered a box of cornflakes, which had crunched under her as she shuffled her ass back onto them, and rest assured a best if them was  _not_ the comfiest of things with which to _cushion_ ones voluptious bottom.

And to top it all off, a tupperware container was digging painfully into her thigh. She only was grateful that he had right securing hinges on his doors to obscure her. She huffed, Benedict was too polite for his own bloody sake, she decided with a grump, as she thought in odes to her 'situation' flicking harshly through another page of her magazine, swigging more wine from the neck of the bottle to help pass the time away.

Ben practically slammed Cressida into his bathroom. And made sure he heard the lock click from the other side, before he scattered like a looney tune over to his kitchen, his shoes scrabbling for purchase on his wooden floors as he skidded to an unsteady stop.

He walked over to the cupboard. Seeing that the other side of it made him instantly thankful that the doors hinged to the right. Because as he got there, all he could see was the rather hilarious – yet awkward – measures of which his curvy lover could bend herself in.

He could see nothing but her curvaceous slender legs stretched out, and her head contorted at an awkward angle to fit half  _inside_ the cabinet. 

 _She was quite bendy.._ He remakred lustfully.

“You look comfortable…”

He japed in a husky tone.

He stepped out of the way as a box of granola had been aimed to thud harshly and painfully against his calves.

“You. My dear. Have to start being _more horrible and off-putting_ to women.”

She grumped in a snippy voice, trying to ease herself out.

Ben crouched, smiling as he helped usher her forwards quickly, tugging her out of his _cereal cabinet, of all places._

She groaned as she took his offered and eased herself up into a standing position once again, her knees clicking and aching at the strain of being upright once more. Ben couldn’t help smiling at the sight of her. She had a couple of shreddies tangled up in her hair, and she turned round to examine her ass, brushing a large proportion of cornflake crumbs off the backs of her thighs, which crumbled to the floor, having stuck to her ass as she had been forced to sit on, and she was sure, flatten the box.

This was _now_ , a situation, which niether of them could take seriously…

Him juggling two women. And her cramming herself into one of his kitchen cupboards. It was a rare occurence for both of them....

He reached up to disentangle a rogue piece of cereal from her red coiled hair as she looked up at him. They smiled at each other, and soon, those smiles turned to sniggers. And before they knew it, they were both clutching their stomachs, doubled over, howling, with tears of hushed laughter squeezing out from their eyes down over their cheeks.

“SHhh.”

Libby urges, hearing his loo flush, which indicated they had only a mere few _seconds_ before Miss Best in Show, Fa Fa, Cressida was upon them again. Or trying to dig her finely manicured talons into Benedict.

“Bedroom.”

Ben urged with a smiling laugh. Smiling into her neck as he leaned close

“Do you mean me, or her?”

Libby asked cheekily as she sauntered off.

He slapped her ass for that. A huge, hard, sharp slap across it, as penance for her cheekiness.

“I sware. This is the last time I _juggle_ with bloody women..”

He ensured, whispering under his breath as they came to his bedroom door.

He heard Libby chuckle.

“Oh, come now. You could have it in you pull a cassanova in later life. Be a silver fox who takes on _hundreds_ of lovers…”

She grinned saucily, leaning against the doorway to his bedroom.

“Unlikely..”

He hushed back.

“How so?” She asked

“More of a ‘one-woman-at-a-time’ kind of guy, are you?” She winked.

“Not particularly. No.”

He smiled, leaning in over her, both hands braced either side of his bedroom doorway, framing her there.

“I’m more of a ‘one-red-head-at-a-time’ kind of guy” He assured her with a wink.

They heard the bathroom door lock unclick and begin to twist open.

Ben pushed Libby backwards, by the chest, so she stumbled into his bedroom as he shut the door on her.

Ben grinned widely as the posh brunette came into his eyeline again. Cressida could see that Benedict had just sharply pulled his bedroom door too as she reappeared.

“Is that your bedroom?” She asked flirtily.

 _Tenacious. This woman was a tenacious hell hound_. He decided.

“Yes. Very messy. I’m such a bad man. Didn’t even make my bed this morning.”

He assured her. chuckling.

“Shall we?”

He asked, pointing the the front door. Which was beckoning for her to be shown through it the other side of the flat.

“I wonder what you’re view is like..” She wondered.

And before he could even stop her, she had thrown open the bedroom door and peered inside. Ben gulped, waiting for her to angrily accost Libby.

 _Oh_ , he could see the headlines now. “Two Women at a time, Sherlock star.” Or “Benedict Cumberbatch, rampant threesome rumoured.”

He waits for the horrifying truth to explode. But it doesn’t.

He wrenches open his eyes to see his room ahead of him. His large king sized – unmade – bed. His walk in. His little en suite. The large bookshelf and TV looked the same and undisturbed. And the moon sends a ethereal rectangular glow to strike his bedding from the window. It was dark and peaceful.

And no sign of life, or red. He supposed with wonder and intrigue. He’d say it now, if they ever _did_ decide to play hide and seek, Libby had proven after tonight, that she could win. Hands down. No questions asked. She would be the grand master of the game.

“Wow. Right across London..” Cressida marveled at his gaze.

“Yeah. Nice view it is.”

Ben snapped quickly.

“I’d best get out of you hair now… anyway..”

Cressida uttered slowly.

Ben walked with her like the gentleman he was, back across the flat and to his door. Opening it wide. Resisting the urge to help her out of it with his foot brought sharply to her back.

“But, you know, you have my number, if you ever wanted to do this again sometime, and um. Maybe. Next time. I’d get more than just the view from your bedroom window..”

She purred, leaning in to kiss him once more on the lips, slowly pulling away.

Ben gulped. Shakily smiling.

“Night then.”

He beamed, slamming the door softly shut in her face.

He shuddered, wincing in revulsion, and wiping his sleeve across his mouth after he had bolted the door.

 _All three door locks_. Shut tight. He was taking no risks to that unswayably determined _harpy_ of a woman coming back again.

He sighed, slumping his back against his door, relaxing in relief.

Before he straightened, and made sure all the lights in his place were off before he sauntered into his bedroom. Seeing it looked exactly as undisturbed as it did before. His eyes scanned everywhere. Yet still, to his eyes, he could see _no spot_ where his five foot ten curvy lover could be hiding.

“Ok. I surrender. Where are you, Red?” He asked to the room ahead of him.

“Hiding in plain sight.”

Came a muffled response after a second.

Ben frowned.

That was before he saw his bedding move, lke waves cresting and breaking on the ocean, his white duvet rustling, before a slender pale arm lifted up the corner of it. Revealing a tangle of wild red hair and the beautiful face of his lover came into view once more.

He chuckled.

“Plain sight. I’ll give you that..”

He sighed, exhausted, crossing to the bed, and heaving down onto it. Loosening his tie and kicking off his shoes.

He leant right back, lying with one hand under his head. The other lifting up to encourage Libby to slide under his armpit so he could cuddle her close and be with her. She slid up to oblige him, but not before her delicate touch went to his tie, and uknotted it completely, pulling it away and letting it crumple to the floor by his side of the bed. Her fingers then undoing a couple of buttons to reveal the dips of his muscled chest. Only then did she lay down, and curl up to his ribs. Nuzzling into her Benedict.

She missed the heat and scent of him tonight. Hating that Fa Fa woman was stolen his attention for a few hours. But, joke was on her, she was in his arms now. Cressida was somewhere in a cab, revelling at the fact she had an _almost_ date and shag with Benedict Cumberbatch.

“So. You do know. You nearly got lucky tonight.”

Libby smiled after a long few silent seconds, almost certain that the both of them had drifted off to sleep.

“SHuttup.”

He moodily rasped.

“….And, You’re mistaken.”

He gruffed, eyes closed, but still smiling.

“Hmm?” She asked.

“I’m getting _Lucky, right now_ …”

He purred, curling up into her. Placing a kiss to the top of her head. Edging away to sleep.

 


	5. Cooking, Good looking, and Handsome Dangerous Thespians: PART I

 

~ PART I ~

 

    

(In which Benedict is a filthy bugger....)

 

 

It was a lazy Saturday morning in London, the sun was shining, birds were tweeting, and remarkably for Great Britain, the sun was out. And a lovely warm summery sense of calm, all warm and breezy, indicated that the city was sliding seamlessly into the first flushes of autumn. A lovely calm seemed to wash over the city with every new beam of gentle sloping sunshine. This was applicable to the whole London burrow, except it seems, for one house, located in Hampton Court Place, just off Hobury Street. For within the residence building of the old fire station. The loud exclamations that could be heard spewing from the kitchen were anything _but_ tranquil and serene.

_“Bloody bollocking bollocks!”_

Libby cursed as she shifted flour around into a bowl, managing to give the floor, and her feet a good dusting of the stuff as she dropped some all across her feet. Flitting from oven to hob, turning dials on the oven so things didn’t boil over and burn, all the while trying to balance doing 8,000 things at once.

She was hosting a Birthday dinner party tonight for Amanda Abbington, her dear _dear_ friend. And she had been insistent at wanting to cook for all 7 people in attendance – a fact of which she was now regretting - which made the list up of Amanda (of course) Martin, Herself, Benedict, Tom, Hattie, and last but not least, James. She loved each of them in spades, and as it was a special occasion, she had taken to her kitchen in – not so elegant – attempts at cooking a three course meal which all of them would love. It was just past 2 now, and everyone would be arriving at seven, which naturally meant that benedict would swagger up to the house at half past, that much she did know. He was away today at some shoot, or press thing. Otherwise, he had told her as they lay in the afterglow of a shag, both glistening with sweat and very fucked out, spooning in his bed not two nights ago, he assured her that he would be coaxing her away from cooking to indulge in filthy bedroom activities.

She had just finished rolling out the dough for the pastry to go with a beef wellington dish, with flour covered hands, and had moved onto skinning peaches, very aware that her cheeks were flushed, she was sweating like a pig, and that she was covered in flour, and up to her elbows in peach juice, when the doorbell goes.

 _If ever there was a time for a butler in my life,_ she thinks, _now would be it._

She huffs as she puts down the dripping juicy peach next to the mountain of ones she had to skin through after she answered the door. She turns, glaring at the oven with narrowed eyes in a warning for it not to blow up or burn anything whilst her back was turned.

She trots to the door, acutely aware that she looks like she had a collision with a sack of flour, aswell as that, she had butter, and red wine joux splattered on her top too. What a sight she must be. It is reminding her that she was never destined to be a neat person. No matter what in. Art, cooking, drawing, painting, organisation. No. She was a messy person down to her very bones.

“Christ, I’m so _bloody elegant_..”

She remarks to herself as she looks down at her filthy state.

She get’s to the door, and swings it open, wondering who it could be. But as a rough as sin, smoky and gravel sex voice leaps to her ears. She doesn’t have to wonder a single second longer.

“Hello. I’d like some strings free, no hassle, dirty as fuck, very loud bed breaking sex please..”

He drawls, practically vertically reclining into her doorway, using his eyes to undress her on the very spot where she stood. His eyes were rapidly approaching dangerous eye fuck level maximum. And she is acutely aware that a horny Benedict cannot be swayed from his one true goal of getting her naked, and giving her multiple orgasms.

His eyes sweep over the delightfully mussed stretch of her. She was wearing those skin tight blue Levi jeans that never fail to get him more than a little excited when he see’s her wearing them. They strained so deliciously tight across her ass and thighs he almost wants her to wear them exclusively in his company and nowhere else. They were incredibly NSFW to him. On her top half, she had on a short little blue jersey top, buttoned just so to give him a sneaky peek at her cleavage, the buttons straining in their hold over her breasts. Across her middle, she has on a white apron speckled with stains from past cooking experiments. He can see a slight sheen of sweat glisten on her chest, running down between her breasts. Her hair was twisted up, pinned away from her face, but the way a few curly red tendrils had escaped where she had twisted it up into a scarlet silk headscarf, sticking to the glimmer of sweat on her pale brow, the hair do making her look fetchingly like a flustered busty heroine in some saucy and ridiculously raunchy Victorian erotica novel. Her cheeks are reddened too, and she has streaks of flour sticking to her face, and at her shirt front, directly in front of her breasts. Encouraging his eye line to linger there for a good long few seconds. Feeling a slight bulge form in his trousers at the sight of her like this. Which he smirks at. She doesn’t even have to speak, and still she manages to turn him on.

“Is it me, or are our greetings around here now becoming remarkably more sexual by the day…”

She flirts back, narrowing her eyes at him, but smiling as she did.

“You look so very fucking _shaggable_ right now…”

He lusts after her, nearly ready to drool at the sight of her like this. All flushed, and hot, and covered in ingredients. Who knows, maybe he had a cook fetish, he’s not sure the inane desire to fuck her on her kitchen counter really counts as a valid fetish.. but there we go…

Her eyes give him a stone cold warning. As she widens the door for him to come in, he gladly slides his arms around her, reuniting his body with her own. Like he had never been away. But, he hadn’t seen her in 12 hours, he was not responsible for the way his body behaved when he got close to her once more. He groans, the sound rumbling up deep from his chest as those curves that made him so hungry, are pressed right up to his body once again. Just where she should always be. Entwined like this, with him. She makes sure to throw her front door shut after he slinks in and embraces her. Any sneaking pap photo’s of the way he was holding her would bring to light the fact that they were not ‘just friends’ anymore. And they’re enjoying the salacious secret aspect of having their little affair far too much for it to be prematurely ruined by a grainy shot in all the magazines of them snogging.

“Ben, I’m _filthy_..”

She warns, as he pays little next to no care to his own clothes as he clasps her to his chest, meaning that whatever mess was streaked across her front, would get on him. Thank god he wasn’t wearing of his billion dollar designer suits, clad instead in a gorgeous soft black jumper that he makes look deliciously expensive. With simple cut jeans on his long, long legs. Silly scruffy converse on his feet, making him look much younger and scruffy than he was, plus the fact his hair was growing long and unruly, in a way that he declared made him look too ‘feminine’, but in a way she adored. She loved tugging her fingers through it and making him groan, he loved the way she’d curl her fingers through the locks, scratching his scalp in the most sensual way that had him groaning deep at the back of his throat. His eyes would flutter shut and he would just flop into her when she did. Almost making him comatose. His hair was such a sensitive button that she always managed to work to her advantage. He loved that about her.

But as he winds her close then, and cups her neck with both of his hands, and kisses her in such a fiercely passionate way, that she see’s stars. She too finds herself not having a care in the world about getting him all dirty. She is only all too careful not to touch his back, as her hands were covered in sticky peach juice. She holds them aloft in mid-air, as she lets herself get hopelessly turned on by his kiss.

“Oh, it’s _so sexy_ hearing you finally admit to that..”

He japes, rasping huskily into her ear with a smile before he kisses that little spot down the back of her neck that he knows makes her tingle. She rolls her eyes at him. Still smiling, however.

“I mean it in a non sexual sense, fiend, I’m covered in flour, butter and a various assortment of other… ingredients…”

She confirms, noticing now that she had a huge glob of butter streaked to her ribs that she didn’t notice before. But still, he reels her close, and caresses her, not caring what state she was in. He just wanted her close. The familiar warm homely scent of his woman tantalizing his nostrils once more,

“I love it when you smell like butter..”

He groans gutturally, trailing his nose down her neck, his scorching breath washing over her and making her eyes flutter closed, her knees a little weak. Curse the man for knowing where all her hot spots lay.

She tries to wrench her body back, but he links her closer, his hands holding her waist keeping her where she was.

“You know, you’re supposed to _cook_ with the ingredients you buy, not _wear_ them..”

He japes, leaning back to let his eyes take in the curvy expanse of all of her. The woman even had flour on her feet, of all places. He proved his point by naughtily pinching her top, and peeling it away from her, in order to one, show her that her top was stained and grubby. And two, because it allowed him to catch a glimpse of the royal blue lacy silk bra that she is wearing underneath. Which makes him only all the more passionately devoted to undressing her all that much quicker.

His hot blue eyes flicker up to meet hers again.

She tilts her head, smiling at him.

“I fear you are forgetting that I am hosting Amanda’s birthday party in less than about, four hours, and I still have a buggering load of cooking to do. So even if I did want to shag you, I cannot, I have to get my duck and my beef in the oven..”

She insists stubbornly. Because if there was one thing she was, Ben cursed, it was bloody stubborn.

“I smell peaches…”

He concluded, apparently not taking any of her words in.

“I’m making Crispy Chinese Peking Duck, with plum sauce, and sticky sweet sesame hoisin peaches..”

Ben’s mouth watered. She was even making one of his favourite dishes that no one could cook as good as she could.

He groaned. Tugging her close, and nipping down her neck. She was making his favourite dinner, and she looked absolutely yummy to his minds eye. There was no denying how madly he adored this woman.

“Can I keep you? You gloriously sexy goddess of a woman…”

He asks rhetorically. Nearly whining as she smiles and slides away to the kitchen. He trails after her in a manner akin to a horny stalker, not as her secret Boyfriend. Watching her glorious ass strain for his attention under her jeans. She rounded the counter, throwing herself into the fray once more to get dinner ready.

“Oh, I don’t know. You’ll have to get that past my secret lover. He’s very protective over me you know…”

She flirts, winking at him. Going back to getting stuck into getting the skin off the peaches for the duck dish.

“Too damn right he should be. He must be despicable too, Letting you wear jeans like those that make your ass look ruddy damn fine...”

He drawls, leaning against the kitchen doorway, watching her move like it was enchanting to him, But then, who is he kidding. Everything she did enchanted him. That’s no secret. He could watch her brush her teeth, put on make up, or read a book. And all of those boring little things he would still find absolutely bewitching. He was beguiled with this woman, to a point of near lunacy. A way of which left him wanting to shout it from the rooftops each morning he woke up, blessed with the fact that he was still lucky enough to be called her man. Every day with Libby finally made him understand what all musicians sung about when they hollered about being madly in love. She had his heart. So wholly. He knew it should scare him. But it did not. It rather thrilled him to bits instead.

He watches as she leans over, checking over all the pans and various other things that were boiling and bubbling away. He saunters over, peering over her oven to try and estimate what she was going to cook. And before she can moan that he is in her way, she finds that two slender arms wrap around her waist from behind as she stands with her front to the counter, hands dripping with sticky peach juice as she skins them for her recipe. She feels him stoop down as his chin tucks into the crook of her neck. She can smell the inviting all male waft of his scent brush to her senses, masking over the sickly sweet aroma of the fruit in front of her. She smiles as she feels his scruffy unshaven chin rest on the small patch of her skin by her shoulder as he squeezes her close lovingly.

“Mnnn. You smell like peaches..”

He moans. Looking at her hands and knowing that if he was wicked as to slide those thin fingers of hers into his mouth, she’d _taste_ like peaches too.

He then braces his hands either side of her, his chest leaning into her back as he reads from the recipe book over her shoulder.

“What you got cookin’ good lookin’?”

He hums in a smile to her ear, looking at the destroyed ruins of her huge kitchen counter, that was a result of her messy character launching herself into cooking. She was not a neat person.

“The choices for dinner tonight are, a beef wellington with porcini mushroom and prosciutto stuffing, with a choice of red wine joux, or a herb and onion gravy. Then the other choice for the more adventurous, will be the Peking Chinese duck with peaches, and plum sauce. The side dishes being roast potatoes, or swede and carrot mash. To start there will be spiced parsnip soup with garlic bruschetta slivers, and griddled chilli asparagus. For pudding I am making my ever popular cherry, almond, lemon and mascarpone tart and a because I know how much James and Amanda love Chocolate, I caved and made chocolate and apricot fondants with boozy chocolate sauce for those who fancy it..”

She explained, wiping her hands as she turned sliding away from his hold, lovingly stroking his cheek before she stirred something, added a spoonful of something here and there, before going back to the peaches. Ben’s mouth was watering from just hearing that list.

“You’re going to be a busy woman then?”

He asks her, watching as her hands expertly threw another undressed naked peach into a large bowl next to her. She smiled at that.

“What I was trying to tell you earlier, when you were giving me those bedroom –come-fuck-me-now eyes..”

“You’re sure you can’t spare five minutes for a tea break?” He asks.

“I’m sure I can, But you don’t mean tea break, _really,_ do you?”

She asks him. Her blue eyes looking up to meet his. _Fuck, she looks sexy with flushed cheeks…_ he thinks to himself.

“By tea break, of course, you know I mean put everything in the oven on low, and roll around, half undressed on your sofa having a damn good grinding teasing make out session..”

He insists. Smile wide and cheeky. But when was it ever not when he breached the subject of anything to do with making out, snogging, kissing, fondling, groping or full on sex.

“Or you could give me a hand?..” She offers.

“Or there’s that..” He smiles. Crossing to the sink to wash his hands.

“Nothing too taxing for the rookie, please. Let’s remember not all of us had fancy chef training in France…” He reminds her.

She chuckles.

“Peeling potatoes it is then..”

She insists. Edging him towards the chopping board as he slung an apron on. She tried not to laugh at the fact that the apron he pulled tight about his body did in fact, have a woman in lingerie on the front of it. A stupid jokey present that Simon Pegg had brought her for Xmas moons ago. In typical Simon manner.

“I am your obedient dogsbody, Mil’lady.”

He salutes, taking the peeler from her hand and getting started on the large mountain of veg in front of him, stood to her right. Ignoring the naughty little voice of reason in his head that permanently tried to convince him to kiss her senseless.

“Peel, Peasant. Peel. Lest I have you thrashed..”

She mocked, licking a dribble of peach juice off her wrist.

“Kinky.”

He smiled. Following her lips with his eyes.

_Oh, she’d definitely taste like peaches now, that, he knew._

She laughed at that. Giving him one of those looks. Ignoring how not long after, Ben was slinking his hips side to side, shimmying his ass to ‘Calling all Hearts’ over the radio, jiggling around like a soul possessed. Bobbing his head around and miming the words – badly – in that baritone gruff of his, in a way that made her roll her eyes, laughing at his stupid antics.

Only its hard to ignore his dancing when he pulls her back, spinning her body in a wide circle, his hips rolling into hers as he coerced her into dancing with him as he sung, spinning her round, reeling her in, gripping her in a dance hold.

_“Calling all hearts, oooohh, to the dancefloor, tonight. Let love start, ooooohhh, on the dancefloor, tonight…”_

He wailed as he span her round, smiling as he turned the radio up and led her round the kitchen. Libby could see he that even from being in her stuffy kitchen for no more than ten minutes, and already he was flushed and sweaty too. His hands skimmed a wicked path from her tiny waist to her hips. Trailing over her hourglass shape with his hands.

“You’re a loon. Did I ever elect to tell you that?”

She grinned, linking her arms about his neck. Careful not to get any sticky peach juice on him. Still swaying madly about with him in the enclosed space between the oven and her kitchen island.

“Well. If I am, then you’ll be the one looking after my lunatic ways in my old age…”

He insists, grinning, slowing his mad swaying, they were dancing now in a manner akin to slow dancing now, facing each other. His hands slid down to grip her ass as they were pressed so close.

“Oh, alright then.” She smiles.

“If a little madness is all I have to put up with after a long aged lifetime with you, then count me all in..”

She beams.

He chuckles, leaning down to kiss her on the lips. Groaning as they smooched, getting hungrier for each other by the second, so that when they pull away, they both feel they are turned on. Libby was dizzy from the force of his kiss. And they know they are both flushed, a little hot and horny for one another, and they both want to get a great deal sweatier. He is ragingly hard now, and she is more than a little moist and turned on in the knickers department. The both of them loving how once kiss could alter the mood, and lead to something more. It was both a blessing and a curse.

“We can’t..”

Libby rasps in a low voice.

“You better get that stuff in the oven soonish so I can _fuck_ you before the others get here at seven o’clock…” He growls.

“Deal?” He asks her

“Deal..”

She gasps, smiling as she slides away to finish her cooking. He kisses her on the lips, letting her sidle away to finish her task.

Before she can go, however, he catches her arm, and she see’s that his eyes are so desirous that it’s almost unsettling. He pulls her hand up to his lips and takes three of her fingers into his mouth, sucking in earnest, moaning at the sweet peach juices he finds there. Lapping up every drop of the fruit he could find with his tongue.

She has to clamp her thighs together, tight, and remind herself that begging him to fuck her on the kitchen counter right now would be inherently unhygienic when she had to feed 7 people later on this evening.

“Not.Helping…”

She groans wantonly.

“I never said I’d make this _easy_ on you..”

He winks. And to her, that sounds like a filthy promise.

 

 

 ~

 

 

Spoiler: ~PART TWO ~ contains a little bit of naughtiness that resembles something a bit like this;

(e.g. Cheeky horny Benedict is cheeky to his dear Libby under the table at Dinner...)

 

 

 

 

 

 I imagine his sorry not sorry face he makes when Libby get's mad at him for it would look a little like this:

 

 

 

 


	6. Preparations...

 

 ~ PART II ~

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

Naturally, of course, they don’t quite get round to the sex part. No matter how badly Benedict needs to offload his _ardent burden_. Of course not. The universe would not conspire to bring him an easy time in his apparently simple quest. _Oh-no_. he battled with the idea of  whisking her away upstairs, or even to the sofa in the living room next door would do he wasn’t picky. All he knows is his brain had so far calculated 18 ways in which he could try and strip her out of her clothes, and haul her away above stairs to give her bed springs a damn good rigorous testing. But. _C’est la vie._ He learns that fate is destined to be a wicked mistress to him, tonight. First there was a dilemma with the onion herb gravy being a tad on the runny side, and then, unfortunately for him, she was having issues with watching her fondants like a hawk to make sure they rose properly. So of course. Libby is glued to the kitchen making sure everything will look and taste perfect. And he is stuck in a little rut of torture, watching that perky ass toddle round her kitchen, swaying side to side in her jeans as she sung to some crappy song on the radio. And still, he see’s that sheen of glimmery sweat decorate her brow and the valley in between her breasts, her pale cheeks still so wonderfully flushed in a way that bring to mind so very many dirty images to his head of what other activities gave her hot pink cheeks…

His mind snaps back down from heights of deliriously mad horniness, when he realises she had called his name several seconds ago, and now awaited his response. She was twisted half facing away from him slaving over the hot oven, spoon in her hand, and the other braced under it so she didn’t drip sauce everywhere. Frowning mildy at him as he was staring rather intently at her ass, his concentration focused solely there. Eyes glazed over, and she noticed he was nearly slackjawed. She wouldn’t put it past him to start drooling at any moment…

“Return from planet Horny Ben please, can you come and taste this, tell me if you think it’s too sweet?” She encourages. This seems to jerk him back down to sea-level. Snapping out of the pure sex funk he was stuck in, in regards to wanting her.

“What are you putting in my mouth now?” He asks cheekily, crossing to stand by her side. One hand going to her lower back, as he stood by her side, letting her spoon a small sip of the hot red wine joux into his mouth. He winces a little at the scorching heat of it, but then the even rolling taste of mellow red wine in perfect balance tingles onto his tastebuds.

“Hot, and perfect. Ironically, just like the lady making it..” He winks. She smiles to this. Wondering in how many ways could he work sex into every sentence he spoke. It was nearly a advantaged talent of his. His hand bored with the region of her lower back, slid south to grip her ass.

“And, now I have a table to lay…” She insists. Pressing a fingertip to his nose in a cheeky _‘boop’_ motion before she saunters that sexy ass away. And as she was not heading in the direction of the bedroom whilst simultaneously stripping her clothes off, his mind shouts viciously at him that progress towards his and hers joint orgasms was not being made any time soonish.

He whines, slumping down. Watching with a prominent sulky bottom lip portruding in his sulky puppy face as that infamous ass flirts with him whilst she’s not looking. Urging him on in the way it tantalised him. Alas. He is resigned not to act. It was twenty past six now, this was the one chore she had left before she went to go and hop into a lavender bubble bath to freshen up for tonight. His head drops down, frowning mildly at his _non-dormant_ crotch as it twitches with eagerness at the thought of his curvy lover, hot, sudsy and naked in the tub. Surrounded by the lingering scent that is so wholly her, he can never not smell lavenders and not immediately think just of her warm, soft body.

“You have a boyfriend to lay too…” He shouts through her house to the dining room where she had slunk her sexy ass off too. Rudely out of his sight.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that…” She yelps back.

Benedict rolls his eyes. _Bloody-too-good-too-sexy-for-me-woman_. Figuring that whilst he’s down and out on luck. He may aswell go and get dressed. He had more than a few posh shirts, jackets, and trousers tucked away in secret in her walk in. He may find more success in going and showering up, chances were he might be lucky enough to catch a glimpse of her in a dishevelled undressed state. And right now, that hopeful thought is the _only_ thing keeping him going. That. And the fact that he’d be sat next to her at the table. _And oh_. _The fun_ he’d have with _that_ conveient lucky little position…

He swaggers away. Smiling _. Let the games commence…_

 

~

He was sat on her bed, happily dressed in a deep wine red coloured jumper, and his darkest hugo boss jeans, he was just slipping his ‘Yes, baldrick’ Blackadder themed sock’s on his feet. Courtesy of his best friend slash lover. When from across the landing, he hears the doorknob to the bathroom rattle, and the wood of the door squeak in the way it always did when it was pushed open. And then, just because the night was being unfair enough to him already, she trots quickly through her bedroom, heading straight to the wardrobe. In only a _towel._ The damp rectangle of cloth the only barrier between him, and her naked body. And the way she grips it tight at the back, shows him the full extent of every single one of her mouth watering curves. Still slightly sheened in water from her bath. He notices she had a clump of her fragrant lavender bath bubbles stuck to her calf. As she passes him with a pretty smile, and her cheeks are yet again flushed. Just in case he found no other reason to want her more than anything in the universe. His body instantly stands to attention at her like this. Especially when she saunters out of the doorway to her walk in two minutes later, holding up two dresses for his preference. Wrapped in a flimsy short silk blue dressing gown. Her wild hair tamed into a straggly bun. As she sways past him, he is proverbially punched in the nose by a solid wall of her alluring Neal’s yard bath products. Twists of orange, and geranium tantalize his senses in the most enigmatically erotic way.

“Which one?” She asks him. His eyes flicker between a black jumpsuit halter neck contraption, and a short burgundy red dress, virtually backless, and which was a wrap round number. She had worn it for him before, he realises. On a home cooked meal date at her place, the weekend after they first ‘got together’. It was one of her favourite dresses. And he needn’t wonder why. It made her look _sinful_. Plus, he couldn’t have her sat next to him wearing something that would obstruct his path. And the jumpsuit would do exactly that. Unbeknownst to her, he has formulated a _nice_ little plan in his head.

“The one in the middle…” He cheeked, his eyes dark and desirious.

She frowned in soft bewilderment, those perfectly shaped brows pulling down in the middle of her forehead. Then caught onto his jist. Again came the blue eyed stony look that she seemed to be giving to him a lot tonight. That adorable little

“The dress then..” He answered after she looked at him impatiently, but smiling in warning, for a long few seconds. Holding his hands up in surrender.

She turned, heading for her dressing table, very wary of him. But evidently not to a reasonable extent. Because as she puts her back to him, he reaches forwards to grab a fistful of her gown, tugging her back, twisting her round to pull her frame atop him, his hands to the back of her hips, and the way in which she whips round, means it makes the burgundy dress slap him in the face, plus the black thing manages to box him in the ears as she is spun into him. But he does not care one bit. As he stares up at her fragranced soft curvy body curled into him.

“Hello…” He stupidly grins, beaming up at her, under those long lashes and that wild unruly hair that makes him look like a young boy again. Especially when his features were shrouded in such juvenile happiness. She softens. Damn the man in him knowing how to make her soften and turn to mush for him.

“Stop giving me those puppy eyes that I am _so damn_ susceptible too.” She groans, throwing her garments over the end of her bed. Sliding her hand through the back of his soft halo of browny red curls. Watching as his eyes shuttered lightly at the sensation of her fingers rubbing sensually against the back of his scalp.

“Ok, I’ll have to give you something else instead…” He shrugs, his eyes turning wicked.

Before she can fathom the move, or try and escape from his clutches. He reels her round once more, wrapping his arms about her and twisting with her body in his grip, so what she next feels is her back being gently thudded down onto her made bed, which he then musses up as he covers her chest with his own. Clamping his lips over her own. Muffling her protests as they melt from groans of warning, to groans of desire instead. And he unleashes on her a kiss that was usually reserved for pivotal romantic moments in old black and white movies. There should have been music blaring away, and it should have been in cinema projection, with dolby surround sound. She moans into his mouth as he groas and growls into hers, slinking further up her body, making sure to kiss her deeper, and pull her so there is no room to spare between their bodies. Her hands sink into a comforting well learned position, sliding to link about his neck in a way they had grown accustomed too as of late. His right slides down the entire length of her body, making a flush creep up across her neck, as he eventually stops when he gets to the peach like flesh of her thigh, linking her thigh up to curl over his hip as his body ground down onto her own, making her writhe under him.

His mouth latches away from her lips after his lungs demand for some air, which he sucks in deep as his attention is averted to her neck. Sucking deep marks as he kisses and nips her in her most knee weakening spot. Missing the way she gapes her kiss bruised lips and moans loud for him. His hand manages to find her other thigh, and curve that to the side too, so he can press even further down onto her. Which causes her to gasp wildy before his mouth finds hers again. Panting into her mouth as he takes her breath away again. And makes the both of them so ragingly aroused.

“Mnnf. Ben..” She manages to gasp as his lips give her a momentary lapse.

“Oh, god, yes…” He rasps, sinking his teeth down into the pale column of her throat. Grinding his hips into her. kissing down the front of her neck, towards her collarbone.

“Ben. _Mn, yo_ ur..” She begins, triling off into a sigh as he kisses down to the top of her left breast, that was partially exposed by her now rumpled blue gown. Just a little sharp tug down, and he would be able to see all of her.

“ _Mmmnn._.” He moans back, kissing and sucking his way down. That cupids bow so erotically wet and red. Passion bruised became him so well.

“Ben.” She manages to finally speak. “Your pocket’s vibrating. Either that or you are just _really **very** pleased _to see me..” She mumbles in a moan.

He pauses in his romantical ministrations in nearly getting her naked. Through the blood pounding through his ears, and his now rsging erection. He can feel his pocket jiggle and vibrate with hot energy. Just as a familiar ring tone starts to jump into the fray.

 _“… She’s up all night til the sun.. I’m up all night to get some..She’s up all night for good fun, I’m up all night to get lucky..We’re up all night til the sun. We’re up all night to get some, we’re up all night to get lucky….”_ Rang out the tune of a caller ID that they both knew of whom was the recipient.

Libby sat up back on her elbows, Ben did too, swiping across the screen, sitting back on his heels, trapping her feet beneath his knees.

“Tom?..” He rasps down the phone in a very obvious tellingly hoarse from desire, sex voice.

“You are _not_ at home, young man..” Came a posh repirmand from the other end in Tom’s pristinely rich, throaty Eton educated voice.

“What are you, my mother?” Ben asks with humour underpinning his words. Frowning slightly.

“You’re not at home!” Tom pointed out again.

“Thank you fact man. Are you also going to reveal I have two arms and two legs aswell. Point out the obvious why don’t you..” Ben sarrced.

Tom ignored his quip. A testement owed to their 16 years of friendship.

“Where are you? Have you forgotten about Lib’s dinner for Amanda’s birthday tonight. It’s not like the time you promised us a movie night then conveniently forgot to tell us you were in sweden is it?” He asks. In a searching way that only a close friend could. Ben had left his then just friend, Libby and Tom waiting on his doorstep for an hour before he remembered, ringing them to tell them he wasn’t actually in the country. Just a slip of the brain, in the most utterly ‘Ben’ like manner ever.

“I hadn’t forgotten..” Ben defended his own honour.

“Then, where the bloody hell are you? And what are you doing? ….You have your jaguar cello voice on…” He explores, dissecting his friend from down the phone.

Ben clears his throat a few times. Libby eyes shot a little wide. Alarmed at the possibility of getting caught out.

“ _I ug_ h... _Uh. Ahem…. Um_ . I was, reading lines. Must have got submerged. In, in the character- are you on your way over then?” He quickly diverts the subject elsewhere.

“Yeah. I’ll be there in about, 25 minutes. Bloody london traffic..” He groans.

“25 minutes..Okay. I’ll see you then…” He blurted out without thinking.

There was a pause. And Libby could almost hear Tom’s confusion being audibly broadcasted down the phone. Ben stuttered, panicking as he tried to remedy his slip of the tongue. Libby rolled her eyes sighing. Pinching the bridge of her nose _. Oh, batch. Art thou an idiot_ … She thinks.. Goodbye sweet secrecy…

“See you then? How- are you there already?” Tom asks.

Benedict begins to feel panic set in on swift wings. Dousing his arousal like an icebucket thrown over his head. He swallows, trying to regain what little serious compsure he had.

“Well _. N_ o _. But. What I_ ah, what I meant was, that I _am …just about_ ..to…. get there…”

“You mean your early..” Tom asked, increduality creeping in on his tone.

“Back off Hiddleston..” Ben defended. Voice going whiny and complaining.

“Why are you so early?” Tom wondered aloud.

Ben’s shoulders slumped.

“Whats with all these interrogations? I had no work today. I got up at ten, and went for a double latte, quickly went to the gym, then out to kunch with Karon. Then I went and got myself home, showered, dressed and then over here to spend some quality time with my best friend, whom, it has to be said, I have not seen a lot of recently. She’s been off gallivanting around London with her new fancy man who she met online, and I’ve been preoccupied. And well…..I. I … bloody well missed her…” He ranted to Tom down the phone, having stood up, away from the bed, pacing round her bedroom like a soul possessed as he defended his tardiness.

“ _Ok. Ok_. I’m sorry I questioned you. So she is really still seeing mystery man gent or whatever his name is?.. I’ve tried to arrange coffee with her a couple times the last few weeks but she’s always unavailiable. She must be completely enamoured with this one, she’s spending evry spare minute with this man…” Tom offered.

Ben grinned a completely wicked grin.

“ _Oh, Besotted_. She told me the other day, she thinks he may be _the one_..”

“Wow…” Tom intoned.

“Apparantly, he’s a completely fantastic lover too, I’ve hardly seen hide nor hair of her for nigh on three weeks. He must really be blowing her trumpet so to speak…”

“Good for her, Go Lucky, I say. Why on earth then, aren’t you dating?” Tom asked. “I bumped into Sophia Ellison the other day. Remember her? The tall amazingly stunning brunette from our Uni days, the one girl us acting nerds were all too shy to ask out, she started asking me about you. I think she’s sweet on you, Cumberbatch…” Tom offered.

Ben remembered that name. and the woman too. Back in their Uni days, everyone had a crush on Sophia Ellison. She had long silkly black hair, and enchantingly blue eyes, she was the miss popularity of Manchester University. And every male with a sexual libido worth his salt had wanted her back then. He sat back down on the bed by his Libby. 

“Oh, really?”

Ben asked, his mind trailing off elsewhere as Libby dragged her legs out from under him all before he could snatch her back. And sauntered away to go and get ready before the guests arrived in half an hour.

“What do you reckon? I got her number to pass on to you, she seems keen. You interested?” Tom asked, with a proverbial _nudge, nudge, wink, wink_ kind of tone to his voice.

He watched, enraptured with love filled eyes as Libby shimmyed herself into her underwear (rudely out of his sight) then started on slipping on her burgundy dress. He listened, half heartedly smiling down the phone to his friend. Watching her dress in an unaware moment, and he thought she had never looked so beautiful.

Whilst the boy inside of him would have leapt and sung, cried with happiness, and danced circles around the room at the fact the biggest hottie of their year at Uni had asked to pass her number on to him, now, the man that he was, was far too in maddeningly all consuming soul changing love with another woman to even think about such a thing. _(Sophia who?)_ His brain asks him as he watched his lover get dressed. He didn’t care if she had a body like a supermodel, and a soul as gifted and kind as mother teresa, hell, he didn’t give a stuff if she single handedly helped the poor, and looked after orphaned kittens and had raw tender and wild passion reserved for him and only him alone. He was not inclined to ring her one little itty bitty bit.

“Nah. No thanks..” He mumbled, beaming as she crossed to her make up table to slick a few things on her face to enhance her radiant beauty all the more.

Tom stuttered for the air the other end.

“Are _you feeling well?_ We practically worshipped that girl in Uni.. and she is still as _beautiful_ as ever. I can certainly vouch for that..The years were very kind to her.” Tom justified.

“Still not interested..” Ben held out as he watched Libby rub pale foundation onto her face _. She can’t hold a handle to what I’m looking at now…_ he thought with absolute final conviction on the matter. This was something that was far above the reaches of contestation from anyone. It had taken him 16 years to get her, and he was never loosing her now he had her at last.

“You could knock me down with a feather…” Tom breathed out in shock.

Ben rolled his eyes at his friend.

“Look, just get your bony Etonian ass over here, Hiddles. There’s a mighty fine three course dinner awaiting you…I’m getting hungry just getting the scent of it..” Ben assured him, watching over Libby as now she picked up her mascara brush.

“Pudding?” Tom asked.

“ _Oho_ hhhh.” Ben laughed. “You will not be dissapointed. She’s outdone herself this time. Your appetite will be well and truly wetted.” He promised. Because even his mouth was watering at the aroma of the duck and beef cooking away in the oven downstairs.

“Awwhhh…” Tom whined. “I’m not far now. Just the damn junction at sloane square.. Shan’t be a few. Anyone else there yet?” He asked.

“Not a soul save for me and Libs. See you soon Hiddley boy..” Ben grinned before he hung up.

“Until then, Benny darling..” Tom smiled before he hung up.

Ben put his phone down, ending the call. Looking up to see that Libby was fully made up, complete with hot red lipstick on her lips, mascara on her ridiculously long lashes, and a sweep of blusher on her pale cheeks. She was just fluffing up her hair into the tousled bob of wild red madness that it usually was. Putting little shimmery gold earrings in her ears. He recognised them as the ones he brought for her a couple of christmas’s ago. He had brought them for her in new york, on a trip with work. She had worn them non stop, for years. He had watched her put them in sat on the sofa in his parents house, one christmas eve morning. When she had pulled her hair back, showing him her neck and ears, and asked him how they looked. She would never know how badly he had wanted to kiss her all over right then. Especially her neck, and over her cute little ears. She stood, seeing that he was scanning her from head to toe, dissecting the way she looked. How could it be fair that she just had to slide on a simply cut dress, and put on a bit of lipstick and she suddenly became a living breathing goddess to his eyes?

Well. He was a man deeply in love after all.

“Ready?” She asked, smiling. Her eyes creasing at the corner with the force of her winningly beautiful smile. She had some coppery coloured shadow on her eyes, making her blue irises stand out like mad. Smoothing a hand down her thigh to get rid of a crease in the dress.

Ben smiled, his heart in his mouth, his lungs in his ears, and his brain was somewhere south of hong kong.

“Have I told you I love you, lately?” He asks her. Trying to regain his senses. But he fears his will power had long since gone. He waved goodbye to it the second he learned her name.

“I believe, in actual fact, that you’re overdue…” She purred, winking at him.

He slunk closer and twirled her into his arms. Dipping her down, and keeping her close as he kissed her. Nuzzling his nose into her own. When he pulled back, he found she had her hand cupping the side of his face.

“I love you, you bonkers man. And don’t think I didn’t notice you drooling after me as I got dressed…” She winks.

His smile dropped into a moody petulant frown at that.

 

~

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut is coming! I give you that!!! Patience is a virtue...


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